A poem begins ,grows line by line and dies with the 

last line .. only to become Immortal.. 

Varma

Hoarding

You can’t hoard

Anything in a hoarding

The brilliant colourful sheets

Standing on legs of iron and steel

Firmly rooted in concrete

Marring the aesthetics of architecture

Hundreds of them stand and stare at you

Attract you with printed products or concepts

They fight for your  recognition

To enter unsuspecting hearts

Generating colourful consumer dreams

Not subject to interpretation

Catering to domestic tension and passion

To be resolved in stalled installments

An attempt in vain to transcend barriers

A painful reminder of Love at first sight