'Novel' Pain

I wasn’t poor, being not rich 

Life was fine, thanks to hope 

All that changed, owing to muse, 

With one ‘novel’ passion pure

Affairs I had, dozen of them, 

Unknown to the lovers of books

Shunned as by publishing folks 

Manuscripts of them make pillows 

In my bed to cause nightmares,

With hope dead, I can’t dream

Now I’m poor, robbed of hope. 

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This was penned before I turned the 'twelve' into free ebooks: https://g.co/kgs/eHB8BW

 https://bulususmurthy.blogspot.com/2024/08/preeti-venugopalas-april-26-2020-book.html 

My 'Novel' Account of Human Possibility
https://bulususmurthy.blogspot.com/2019/08/my-novel-account-of-human-possibility.html

Domain of the Devil - A Satire on Indian English Publishing

https://bulususmurthy.blogspot.com/2019/09/domain-of-devil-satire-on-indian.html

My maiden 'Novel' Blues

https://bulususmurthy.blogspot.com/2019/09/my-maiden-novel-blues.html

On Attitude to Money 

https://bulususmurthy.blogspot.com/2024/08/attitude-to-money-while-conflict-of.html