Blasphemous ! cries Faulkner,
Annoyed he turns.
His eyes are red .
Spurns and scorns.
Blasphemous! he shouts more violent
than the first time.
Enraged he spills venom
Condemns and fumes.
Faulkner seems out of mind.
Baseless is his anger.
Stands furious. for not being
accorded a warm welcome.
Immature at the ripe age,
Faulkner walks away.
He has been so all these years.
Unchanged and hostile as ever.
Meenas Poems 