The No-Bullshit Praise Poem

Cheeks
Flirt with the Raspberry red,
Breath
Settles in a Sandalfest,
Voice
Stirs a Cricket's nest.

Lips
Move a noxious trance,
Hair
Stage a passion dance.

Eyes,
Lit with a calming rage,
Brow
Slants as of a hardened sage.

Smile
Minces my gleeful gumption,
Grace
Fit for a netherworld luncheon.

Smell
Weaves a tender yarn,
Palms
Rest with a young elan.

Poems
of feeble strife,
Muse
Rented. A Life.

2 comments:

Parul said...

This poem is a little different from the way you write, normally in your poems there is no repetition/matching of lines, this one is different.

Unknown said...

I've begun to experiment with rhyme these days.
The poem has more punch that way. But only when it's used in the right way.

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