Poetry: Praying Mantis

There was a mantis.

Greatest Saint of all.

His hands always joined.

Most bent of all.

Eyes like bubbles,

Mouth like hook.

Great wisdom in heart.

All out of the book.

Green colour so soothing,

Wings to fly.

But sometimes he missed something.

He didn't know why?

He missed himself,

So he just sat there calm.

Sometimes on a wall,

Sometimes on a palm.

Followed the light.

For him it was the moon.

Was it a bane or

Was it a boon?

He was afraid of the dark.

Prayers came to his hooked lips.

His Bent arms raised,

Grounded stayed his hips.

The prayers begun,

Mantis started creeking.

Hope kept hiding,

His eyes kept seeking.

The mantis kept praying.

And god kept saying.

"You're a part of my game

dear Mantis,

I will keep on playing".

Vishwajeet Ranade is a poet and a techie

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