Being A Poet, Your Version Please..
It is a pain to be a poet who takes the road often less travelled
Unlike the balladeer of a past glorious.
The skies have changed and so must your flutter of thoughts too.
Will you be a poet or a pontiff at times is the question.
A poet must not tell tales of fantasies and fossils.
The cuckoo and the nightingale have ceased to come and chirp,
Look in and around your gardens, if at all you have had one.
The lilacs and the jasmine have begun to fade and fall too.
The realities of times unwarranted are around you all ever.
Will you still sing about a transcending world of charm and delights around you?
Across the green fields of plants and weeds you can see
The scorpion peasants carrying cylinders of poison liquefied
Killing the insects and the little plants that have bore the corns.
And they are your providers of food till you die soon
Will you scribble about the bounteous tillers of the land yet?
The untainted cheeks of the lass turn red
When her lover announces his care by throwing kisses thereon
In the cover of darkness found at last.
As their untested love gives way for lust and dismay
Will you write about the new Romeo and Juliet once more?
There atop the mountains he must see the snow melting
There under the water masses he must see a tsunami waiting.
A poet may never let a sob out of pain; he must cry like squealing pig
And he must tell the tales of a present that haunts the world.
He must stop recoiling into a past of woes.
His pen must remain wet ever
Though daggers held above may lower his spirits for a while.
He has to be a pedestrian never deserted in the wilderness of paths.
And his words must one day stop for ever and he must get into acts.
Will you still be braying like an ass out of the barn?
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
