4RITE POEM

POEM


                                                                       Travel

Long ago monk travel along or alone, 

travel more shiver us, 

tribes wipe sniff, puff cigar, 

goods or woods, would sale after mile travel, 

revolution became, travel in sail for miles, 

light or sight travel weightless, 

army travel lull those against, 

over earth travel frail, 

trim living never grim though, 

travel is coincidence with sense. 

                                                                       My way

Not interested in copying others

The trends of world does not matters

I have my own style

I live in my own world

Who cares what people thinks

I go where my ideas blinks

I have a sigh of rare world glimpse

Just let the dreams and  passion spout

I feel no worry

if  they titles me

with  the ‘odd one out’

I have my own sense

blessed with a unique approach

I  am straight forward on my route

i have my own thoughts

My own life note