Aphorist

Dawn noon and dusk, he lays on a doss,

The flowers dooms to husk, he doesn’t have any posse;

His powers are at brusque, cos he ain’t have any boss!

Neither gabbled nor waddled,

            He just twaddle and toddled;

But they erred and stirred to façade,

            And compared his caboodle as in the boodle.

Relinquished with this as a scar,

His mind went ajar;

Showed them all as a guiding star,

Scoring a full par with a gloss.

Dawn noon and dusk, he lays on a doss,

The flowers dooms to husk, he doesn’t have any posse;

His powers are at brusque, cos he ain’t have any boss!

Quavering Poet Suhas

8th September '08.