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'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the housetop the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

For my friends here:

There couldn't flourish green tufts in me
As they couldn't grow in cactus.
Like scorched typhoon
In desert
I flew aimlessly.
The colourless wings of
My recurrent desires were not possible to
Be recognized
As that of images of fountains
Sprouting in the eyes of deer.
I was searching
For those helpless moments,
Burning in the fire of love,
Few words drenched
In the moist sensations
With tender touch of
Freshly bloomed petals.
I could hand on
Certain stranger words
Roaming like tourists
Beyond the boundary of connotation. 
In my stilled sight
There fallen 
Your impenetrable bag
Filled with rosy words
Like grains of pomegranate.
Whereas the world has
Shrivelled behind me
Its doors and windows
Like limbs of tortoise,
A musical whisper
Was fumbling my back
On this unknown path of love
Did you call my name?

Here is a poem I have written for my dear friends in this lovely community:

Courtyard melting like ice

Perhaps you might not have forgotten
Air was neither this much contaminated
With the piercing bristles
Of frightening disgust then,
Nor the soil was the hub
Of residual bad odour
Of stinking chemicals, 
How much sustaining power
Did water possess, then? 
When in an early morning
Bathed in dew drops
You had grown a flame 
Into my heart
Of love.

Like golden rings mounting 
On the fringe of the sky
And to my eyes,
Forgot the slate and pencil
Kept on the ground and
Fixed on your countenance,
You have said, “For the protection of its childhood
Form the cruel hands of air, water and soil
A courtyard surrounded with
The high walls of facilities 
 Of our own was required,
So that its tender halo
Like young rabbit
Could caper about.

Its nook and corner
Could fill with texture of colour
In the guise of love
I preserved this condition
As a knot in margin of my scarf
And taking ladder of feelings
Came out on the foot-steps of Meera*
Within the circumference of limited resources
As a bullock harnessed in oil-thrasher 
Eyes were kept in pocket
Squatted like a earthen-pot-maker
Behind the rotating wheel
I wanted to create
In the whirl-wind of words
An image of earthen-pot
Where there could bloom
In the arms of passion
A courtyard capering and boasting
With the scented blossoms of unseen dream
As per your wish
In the torpedo of echo
Having cud the chew
Of thorny waiting
This traveller with tired mind
Is still fixed there.

There pass  by
Uneven fields of time
Glimpses of my short earnings
Taking a nap in the deep shadow of remembrance

The poetry of my failure
Written on the drapes of changing weathers
Is searching in the faceless crowd
Getting down from buses, Lorries, hand-carts
A veil covering
A pair of intimate eyes and ears
As I remember
Stomping the remorse of winning the goal
You set your journey 
To compensate the courtyard
In that direction only
And you had sent a note-
‘Under the air conditioned terrace
In the groove of shady trees
Your expression has got
A swimming-pool-like sky’
Than after your competitions of naked torso
Was in public domain 
On the petite posterior
Thirsty fingers of advertisements
Began to flutter
And for the service to weird humanity
Your resolutions of steamy kisses
Blown in the air through 
Decorated lips
Were  in news

Flying the kite of busyness 
In the jungle of multi-storied buildings
Perhaps you don’t remember
Still there comes here
The mad inflorescence in mango grooves
Sitting on the shoulder of westward wind
Stubborn pollens of desire
Still sulk 
If you chance to come back this way
I shall show you
In the desert fist of sterile mind
Courtyard melting like ice

* Noted saint poetess.

I am quite happy that I have been accepted to be a member of this poetic community. I am sharing one of my poem for this community:
Unlucky Girl

Love means never having
To say you are sorry
But I am really one
I love you though
I couldn’t be like you
A thud of cigarette 
Annexed between petite fingers
Of a kid-adult girl
Might have worked wonder for you
You must be surprised
To see me coming out
Of a defamed alley
You could hardly stand the sight
And also that
I am not just catching hold of it
But taking a puff
Strong enough to send a tempest
Along my nerves
Seeing me tossing on a boat
Trampled in this ecstasy
At such a tender age
You must have been crushed
Out of compassion
You could also feel a pinch of envy
To see me at the
High zenith of joy
A long before ripeness

Good bye friends

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Try.... it won't be that hard.

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Do it the results are weird

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OMG!!  is that true???? if yes +Ritee Keb lets go! Remember when you said we should be paid??? here is our chance!
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bye people too much drama im out
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