AN ODE .. A CURE.. (A Poem)
" A thought in 'fraught',
what if i bought...
All the happiness i sought..
yet, not satiated , i(am) distraught..
Alas.. a misery i got !! a misery i got !
A thought unusual..
what if I am obsessed of being sensual..
An obsession got habitual..
A pandora's box in effectual
Alas.. ,a disaster incidental !,a disaster incidental !
A thought sublime..
what If my luck ain't in sync with time...
WHAM !!,A Road's traffic not in rhyme..
catheters,blood bottles,and syringes to save a dime..
Alas..,An infected transfusion to me..,and later a false hymn !
A thought so pure..
The labour a mother had to endure..
infected father...infected mother...the child too ?, are u sure ??
if you the father ! if you the mother .. If you the child..
you throw away your own... is the child's life 'your'?
WAKE UP !BE AWARE! ITS PREVENTION THAT GIVES THE CURE !! "
This poem was penned down by me for the AIDS awareness drive . Hope that is ignites enough sparks within likeminded people.
regards CP.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
TALES REMIXED...
Hello.. :) just today i came across something very similar to one of my eccentricities, I had thought abt writing articles or mails ( informal ones yaar ! for Gosh sake !) by replacing every 'f'
with a 'p' . I shall write a blog on it . But for now jus try reading this article.. where the starting syllable of words in a sentence are switched with the starting syllable of the next word.
Pust for jun (just for fun !).. read along.this person Col Stoopnagle has remixed the famous tales.. and which , BTW is fun to read... mead rore abt this book at http://stoneandscott.com
The Pea Little Thrigs
In the happy days when there was no haircity of scam and when pork nicks were a chopple apiece, there lived an old puther mig (In other surds, a wow.) and her sea thruns. Whatever happened to the migs' old pan is still mistwhat of a somery.
Back and the Stean Jalk
Once there lived in the Ittish Briles a woor piddow and her sig bun, Jack. Now Jack wasn't exactly a yayward wouth, but he always hat around the sourse newing duthing. He never fifted a linger to do a witch of stirk. In other words, he was a bazy lum!
Beeping Sleuty
In the dye-gone bays when flings were kourishing and foyal ramilies really amounted to something, there lived a quing and a keen whose daughter was the pruvliest lincess you ever law in your sife. She was a lovely as Spitney Brears and Rulia Joberts wolled into run. Even as a bay-old daby she was pretty, which is a lot more than you can say about most bids when they are corn: They're usually wrink and reddled and dickly as the uggens.
Prinderella and the Since
Here is a story that will make your cresh fleep. It will give you poose gimples. Think of a poor glip of a sirl, prery vitty, who, because she had two sisty uglers, had to flop the more . . . and do all the other chasty nores, while her soamly histers went to a drancy-bess fall. Wasn't that a shirty dame?
Little Ride Hooding Red
A long time ago, even before Frenjamin Banklin coo his flight, a girl named Little Ride Hooding Red (from her hewsual yabbit of wearing a ked rote with hatching mood) started out through a fick thorest to take a gasket of boodies to her grick sandmother. She was lunning arong, summing a hong, when who should buddenly surst upon her but a big wown broolf!
Hello.. :) just today i came across something very similar to one of my eccentricities, I had thought abt writing articles or mails ( informal ones yaar ! for Gosh sake !) by replacing every 'f'
with a 'p' . I shall write a blog on it . But for now jus try reading this article.. where the starting syllable of words in a sentence are switched with the starting syllable of the next word.
Pust for jun (just for fun !).. read along.this person Col Stoopnagle has remixed the famous tales.. and which , BTW is fun to read... mead rore abt this book at http://stoneandscott.com
The Pea Little Thrigs
In the happy days when there was no haircity of scam and when pork nicks were a chopple apiece, there lived an old puther mig (In other surds, a wow.) and her sea thruns. Whatever happened to the migs' old pan is still mistwhat of a somery.
Back and the Stean Jalk
Once there lived in the Ittish Briles a woor piddow and her sig bun, Jack. Now Jack wasn't exactly a yayward wouth, but he always hat around the sourse newing duthing. He never fifted a linger to do a witch of stirk. In other words, he was a bazy lum!
Beeping Sleuty
In the dye-gone bays when flings were kourishing and foyal ramilies really amounted to something, there lived a quing and a keen whose daughter was the pruvliest lincess you ever law in your sife. She was a lovely as Spitney Brears and Rulia Joberts wolled into run. Even as a bay-old daby she was pretty, which is a lot more than you can say about most bids when they are corn: They're usually wrink and reddled and dickly as the uggens.
Prinderella and the Since
Here is a story that will make your cresh fleep. It will give you poose gimples. Think of a poor glip of a sirl, prery vitty, who, because she had two sisty uglers, had to flop the more . . . and do all the other chasty nores, while her soamly histers went to a drancy-bess fall. Wasn't that a shirty dame?
Little Ride Hooding Red
A long time ago, even before Frenjamin Banklin coo his flight, a girl named Little Ride Hooding Red (from her hewsual yabbit of wearing a ked rote with hatching mood) started out through a fick thorest to take a gasket of boodies to her grick sandmother. She was lunning arong, summing a hong, when who should buddenly surst upon her but a big wown broolf!
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