Colloquial poetry is to the real art as the barber's wax dummy is to sculpture.
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Diwali
The sweet smell of flowers The array of colors Diwali is here Firecrackers are heard Candles are lit Children play Presents are given We pray to the gods Diwali is here.
In that forgotten part of town Where wasted hopes and dreams abound, A wrinkled ma with life near end, In hopes to have at least one friend, Fashioned bits of wood and things And made a dummy run by s