Monday, August 22, 2011

The Moony Mughal

He stood in a majestic meadow,
the distant cow moo-ed,
the sun kissed the horizon,
and watched the birds brood

With an artistic swish,
the brush drew another cow,
the painter dabbed on his palette,
and poked himself in the brow.

The soldier woke up, squinty and wet,
water dripped from the roof of his one-room set,
he opened his mouth, to taste the monsoon rain,
for, the war was over, with ineffable pain.

The taste woke the farmer up,
he felt no good,
he lay beneath a leaking cow,
in the meadow he once stood.

He felt disgusted and rolled over,
to avoid the fountain of pee,
he fell off his divan,
finally, to wake up without any glee.

He spat a mouthful of grapes,
bellowing at the scantily clad miss,
The Moony Mughal cried,
"This tastes like piss!"



3 comments:

  1. So who is a Moony Mughal?
    A Mughal who moons his subjects? :P

    ReplyDelete
  2. different concept :)
    good creative poem...nice

    ReplyDelete
  3. @Kay - Haha, if you say so ;)

    @Sowmya - Thanks you :)

    ReplyDelete

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