The Chief

The Porqupine Stood in the middle of the road, Quills pointed in defence mode, He was going to write a novel, With my blood And his hundred quills. The twilight twisted slowly into night, And I stepped back Out of respect For he looked like a native American chief With his white and black spears  […]

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Coconut Tree.

The cyclone ravaged the city

With raging recklessness,

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On  the  seat  adjacent  to ours, my gaze  fell  and comfortably rested  upon an attractive  lady.

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