the battle of the lecture field.........

Gently and lightly he enters the hall
which masquerades a battle field...
Suddenly silence on the "warriors" fall
like an unholy soul suddenly healed....

He enters with his weapons of battle,
assured of victory or place in heaven
He looks at the sea of non stop tattle,
raises his hand like Zeus' power given

He drones away like a workman's saw,
sawing away at our mind
His tone observes the Constancy Law
sparing none,benches, front or hind !!

He speaks on topics varied and wide,
opines on those unheard and uncared
He romances his subject, a horse carriage ride,
like young love that is dared !!

His lectures render sharks still,
tranquilize even a rampaging bull
His demeanor's a narcotic pill
His voices' of anaesthesias full

Keeping his promise of nonstop speech
he speaks like an economist inspired
To a halt our brains screech....
to a death-like fate we resign tired !!

Woe betide us ! We look skywards,
promise the one above of visits to shrines
"Thou art tested child !" came the voice downwards
"He who conquers mountains rises above pines !!!"

There we sat in the hall-field
searching for rhyme for spring season
It pierced us like a lightning on a shield
few minutes to ATTENDANCE was the reason !!

Alas ! life plays its own jokes
when we woke from the unearthly sleep
ATTENDANCE was over, missed by many blokes
From underneath the ground did sweep......

Sleep, I declare, is a weapon potent,
Of professors and parliamentarians alike
Neither knowledge nor policies bent
Can save us from the attack so "psych" !

the song of the bad poet......

Indeed....the title is true to the content this time...what i write here is in my opinion one of the worst poems ever written....by the ZaNiEsT of them all [confirmed by a search engine better than google..........the mirror on the wall !!!]




DISCLAIMER: meant only to bug n irritate....and perhaps bring a smile.....
I'm not responsible for ur side effects.......






I'm not a person whose moods seasons like change,
I'm cheerful, zealous, unplanned and strange....

But then every now and then I do feel strangely "poetic",
Being the terrible poet always end up making up a LIMERIC

I'm a bad poet,a pariah, a person facing odium of legend...
Of dogmatic, of "liberalists" and of those hath transcend....

And so my friends, listen i do, to songs,poems and verses
Of legends who give wings to pigs and kiss frogs with curses


I use poetic liberties like communists use the red....
Quatrains don't come to me like loopholes come to a lawyer's head.....

I fail miserably when i attempt ballads that speaketh of lady love...
My style earns none for me, it collects only vegetables for the stove !!

Even plagiarizing does not seem to impact my critics who bet.....
The copied are worse than thou....success even here you've not met !!

Their screams and wails shatter glasses and shudder a strong mind....
My readers art goners I declare, for my works are not lemons only rind

Ladies and gentlemen i do confess, I'm a bad poet a terrible one...
But I'm confounded with one thought still ragging about like a pun.....

How did thou o wise reader manage to read down till here....
This poem's a sham and at your plight i grin ear to ear !!!!!!!!