Fearless Leo Pourparlers

The Mail   In the round hills of Aravalli, On the steep bridges on Godavari. The mail train honks silently, In the silent valley it goes on lonely. On the steep slopes of Western Ghats, Across the city roads vacant of cars and carts. On the banks of goddess Narmada, At the wedding of River Ganga and Alaknanda. Swimming through bridges over the sea, Traveling over the plateaus and lea. The mail train honks swift, As the birds of Kutch drift. The mail either loaded with posts, Or passengers having tea and toasts. Haulting at stations once or twice, Creeping through the V-valleys and farms of rice.I -ADS©

Heavens of Lords  In the ocean of tears, Looking for a boat. In the crowd of fake peers, Finding for a peer like a goat. In the light of night, Searching for a warm coat, In the fight of coat. In the flight of kite,In Looking for a judicious court. In the sky of aves, Searching for a flight. In the soil of slaves, Finding for a source of light. In the papers of ink, Looking for folders. In the drains of stink, Searching for weathered rock boulders. In the hills of peat, Looking for a creative alive. In the wood of seat, Searching for a thread uncut with knives.I -ADS©