“Polyhymnia would not lift her veil,
All my attempts at sacred poetry failed,

Calliope did not lend me her tablet,
Epic poetry left me desolate,

Terpsichore was sure, I could never dance,
Curtly did she say, ‘not a blighted chance’

Her scroll’s secret code, Clio wouldn’t reveal,
History to me lost its raw appeal,

Though Urania twirled the globe for me,
I could not be another Ptolemy,

Her cithara’s notes Erato wouldn’t share,
Love became blind and all was not fair,

Euterpe wouldn’t play her aulos for me,
So, my poetry, lost its rhapsody;

But her comic mask Thalia has lent,
And to make you laugh”, I said, “I was sent”:

Said the readers then, “No escaping you,
On us Melpomene, cast her mask anew”


Rushing Stream

“Why this endless run?”, I asked the silver stream,
“Did you not like what you saw on the way?
Are you running fast, chasing your own dreams?
Does your lover stay somewhere faraway?”

The stream stopped its song and did speak to me
“I have traveled through changing space and time,
I’ve seen evil hearts and base cruelty,
I saw hatred vile and the reign of crime.

I’m not running for I saw evil here,
For I know this truth, evil never wins,
Bliss and hope too live in this atmosphere
By the goodness here, this earth gently spins”

Saying so it left, singing happily,
Spraying water jets on me playfully!


Fire of Greed

We reduced mountains to rubbles,
And we shredded nature’s green gown,
We pricked ozone’s dainty bubble,
Yet our fire of greed didn’t die down.

We built concrete jungles so vast,
We dried lakes and on them built towns,
Thus, was destruction’s shadow cast,
Yet our fire of greed didn’t die down.

We filled oceans with our garbage,
Coral reefs with plastic we crowned,
Fresh water streams filled with drainage,
Yet our fire of greed didn’t die down.

We plundered nature’s fine treasures,
Destroyed life forms, known and unknown,
Exploited Earth for our pleasures,
Yet our fire of greed didn’t die down.

We filled the sky with toxic smoke,
Gifted our lungs with that smog brown,
Not just nature, we too did choke,
Yet our fire of greed didn’t die down.

Things are now beyond redemption,
By our hands were seeds of death sown,
Sadly, there is no exemption,
Yet our fire of greed won’t die down.


Ram is a loyalty marketing consultant. He lives in Mumbai, India. His poem “Bylanes” has been published in Page & Spine. His pantoums have been published on Chalkboard on Medium. His other poems have been accepted in the Tower Journal and Ilumen. His poem “Two or one” earned Honorable Mention in the Society’s Rhyming Riddles Contest.

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