Wednesday, July 14, 2010

The best medicine!

All the wrath I carefully grew,

every irate word that I honed;

over hours of fretting and fuming,

anticipating sweet revenge...

blow up in a puff of empty fumes,

at that astute little taunt of yours;

I end up admiring your witty tongue,

laugh at myself; refuse to be stung!

oh, how I hate myself for this...

I wish I had no taste for humor;

it makes me lose my armor of honor!


Padhu said...

Nicely written.Do drop by
when u find time

sweatha said...

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Anonymous said...

Hi Deepa,

Real good one...Keep it up


Dr.Sameena Prathap


that's a nice poem...i have written a few can find them at


RICHIE said...

try this new thing called freaking out!

Time for tea? Time for two!

Lone lunches have never been uncommon or unpleasant. Even when work has kept your nose to the grindstone all through the morn, if you just...