converstion deceit Poetry

I Ask The Stars.

Fortunate in all sense
I am the one insensible
my heart turns heavy and dense
it is the most possible
nothing else works as I wish
my heart too flounders and beats
I cry and shout only with a hiss
my organs drive me round the beats
I sit and gaze a the sky
I often do that to be in tune
I look at the stars high
twinkle as well in a fine tune
ask the stars in a voice soft
were you not ever cheated?
the stars let out a twinkle fast
could it mean they too were cheatedStars-in-the-sky-daydreaming-26168110-1024-768
I drag the stars to my side in fast
it looks to me that they say
it is not you and me in the world
it is all those who are quiet through the days
would be deprived and deceived in acts and word.


He Also Writes.

A letter forwarded
came as a surprise
long back, I have read
a similar one of a type
the art of writing I know
calls for simplicity in a flow
where words are like flowers
soft and delicate in a course
this letter I read
had high strung words
not one was beautiful
all were rugged and incomprehensible
know not the writer would himself know
for a stupid is referred as a nincompoop
writes he, the descendants are in existence
none so far has departed, a redundancy
he writes like this from times long ago
thinks he is the best writer in terms
never would I vouch for him in terms.magniloquent