Death by Poetry

Anshul and I wrote this back in our ISI Bangalore days…

There was this boy called Obelisk1
Whose life was like a compact disc.
He thought that dreams were black and white,
And on this, with Neeraja he had a fight.

Our hero was eating a biscuit,
And so was Obelisk,
Since both of them are the same,
This rhyme is very lame.

Obelisk thinks of what people say,
And interprets it in his own way,
And this makes him happy and gay,
Of which, happiness, tolerate we may.

I hope he gets some sense,
And stops saying the word “depends”,
But then, I wonder what he will say,
Because, ‘depends’ is his only way.


  1. For the uninitiated Obelisk is aka Obel aka Soumendra.

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2 Responses to Death by Poetry

  1. Anshul says:

    Happy holidays everyone! And Happy Birthday Obs!

  2. he he he he…

    thats was cool…funny…and the rhyme was not exactly lame….it was good enough…the third para is actually composed well…the poem is good in the entirity and a fun read…and yeah of course it paints a colorful Obelisk :)

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