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When Poetry....

When Poetry is with me
I am the ablest soul on earth
like Hercules or Suryasut Karna
when poetry is not with me
I am just remains of burnt papers.

When poetry blesses me
with its favor of earmark.
I need no other blessing then
recesses of my being overspills
with joy ineffable!

My sky begins to sing songs
of interminable daybreak
I become a gala of pure feelings
suffused with efflorescence of life.

When poetry leaves me alone
dead and decaying leaves of negations
spread over in my talent's garden
I become a singed wall
which was once bedecked
by fine letters of arcane moments.

When poetry denies me
I am no less than the woman
who's had hysterectomy.
Nothingness exudes through
every pore of my existence
and cosmic hollowness fills me.

When poetry stands by me
life gets even lovelier and
by far worthy of living
truth dawns upon me
and curiosity snowballs
for unfolding still a greater truth.

When poetry is with me...

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poem by Madhav Sarkunde
Added by Poetry Lover
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