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The Dead Cuckoo
The solstice-song fills my lung with saudade –
I hear skylarks' voice as someone's dead ;
Viper's vice tore cuckoo's crest of neck ;
Red oleander-complexion drips down lake !
Fatal fur beckons flies, following the fate –
To extinct the luring bird's moribund mate ;
Spring's solemn reigns are spectating end ;
Eager eggs of hostland horridly fend.
Few eggs had fell, while putting her own –
Is it the tale that demands to be blown?
But scarecrows can't lie – vale's all alone ;
I saw the unseen bird, but wept in each moan !
© soumik299
I hear skylarks' voice as someone's dead ;
Viper's vice tore cuckoo's crest of neck ;
Red oleander-complexion drips down lake !
Fatal fur beckons flies, following the fate –
To extinct the luring bird's moribund mate ;
Spring's solemn reigns are spectating end ;
Eager eggs of hostland horridly fend.
Few eggs had fell, while putting her own –
Is it the tale that demands to be blown?
But scarecrows can't lie – vale's all alone ;
I saw the unseen bird, but wept in each moan !
© soumik299
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