diplomacy | The Pluming PoeTree

This solitary cow escaped slaughter, was lauded for taking initiative, and rewarded with life imprisonment. Its compatriots remain statistics. The war ended before it started.

We have words troubled with thoughts
That tremble with indecision
That tiptoe through unfunny bones
Before being steeped in precision

Yet ego scours substance
For paper town forget-me-nots
And intent, unless misdiagnosed,
Languishes as an afterthought

It’s a chicken-egg irony
Wrapped in a beefed up paradox
That in an era of diplomacy
Tolerance should be hitting the rocks

There are acts of courage
Powerful, undisguised, profound
Excepted from acceptance
Deemed exceptionally unsound

Oh it is hard to blame
Wherever would it fall?
Indeed it is hard to blame
If we should blame at all

It’s a chicken – egg irony
Wrapped in a beefed up paradox
That in an era of transparency
Honesty should be hitting the rocks

Arguments define the momentum that
The intelligentsia seeks to win
Yet their support is insidiously fed
Auctioned information

The unyielding grip of sanctions
Chokes the fair and free flow
So that the bias sowed in opinions
Gets steadily watered and ploughed

It’s a chicken – egg irony
Wrapped in a beefed up paradox
That in an era of self-discovery
The mind remains lost in thought

– Akanksha Gupta

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Painting emotions in hues of monochromatic blues
And carving expressions in granite
Little in matter, unremarkable in type
The common man walks forward
His gait stumbling toward his shadow
The crowds crow in forbidden delight
Magnifying the slight to overshadow
Those clung on their guise;
Uninvited, their gossip-ridden retinas
Molesting privacy and violating all arenas
Rove, probe and deride
Until there is an enforced stillness
Even in his overly expressive eyes
His mien becomes their definition of perfect
And nary a ripple can be fingered into it
There is a terseness in his shoulders
And a tightness in his lips
His tongue is held for times to come
Unless you count the rhymes it hums
In mutual agreement and cascading contempt
Unheeded and forgotten
The records of the past are unkempt
The present unencumbered of the future –
A future unmeasured and unread