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Poetry by Vennela
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Summer sky
I can smell the morning grass
Beyond the red-and-white
saree
That hangs, dripping, on the clothesline
In the broken pieces of the summer sky
.
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The temple in the jungle
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Our past went into numbered lockers
We all hurt each other
words
The Bankura horses
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The Wishing Well
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vennela
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