Poem: Transformation

A faulty road surpassed by ghoul,
Where orange and grey masters rule,
Of an affinity towards a copper statue
Built in disguise in your greener side.

I’ve killed the jive, it was omnipresent,
Hanging in certain old rooms,
Juvenile, incessant, persistent of a fool;
Smaller distances are infected fast,
With hymns and humans on every bark;
A faulty road surpassed by ghoul,
Where orange and grey masters rule,
Of an affinity towards a copper statue
Built in disguise in your greener side.
I’ve killed the jive, and hence completed,
A circle of such vicious pieces;
And through them peek and past protrude,
And in them my reflection, prude
Is maybe that road expected,
Far from what was tested;
And hence in that solstice’s hive
I went ahead and killed the jive;
And chose the latter longer lide,
And with no guilt, how I’m surprised.
The transition is not even done,
Is it Not the pun?

About the guest author

Khansa

Khansa is a doctor is a doctor by profession. He also calls himself a writer and a poet. He loves his Chai and feeds people whenever he cooks. He enjoys reading, writing, and listening to old songs.