I call him a poet
He
Who beautifies his loneliness
Sitting all alone
In the dark.
Someone
Who has stopped
To compare with
The hills of status,
......
Although
Dipped and merged
In the dire darkness,
He is the one
Who is busy-
Building up a world
Of light and delight,
Pondering over the dreams
That might bring laughter
In million lives,
......
A poet
Is someone who just paints
A rainbow of Eros
In the raining skies of the lovers
Beyond their horizon of lust,
......
A poet
Is someone
Who, adds a new page
To the writing pad of loving hearts
Who, have undergone erotic lethargy
......
A poet
Is someone who
Lives in the mortal world
But loves the immortals,
A poet
Is someone who
Lives in whirlpools of Intolerances
But loves to understand,
......
What shall I do with my time on this earth.
Given a long daunting path, not knowing
What history gave me at birth.
Will the road be paved by words.
Or will the woods and trees make cover for swords.
Will my breath be routed in my heart,
To speak a language only explained in art.
How do I know if the tune is fake,
Which arrow will pierce the truth,
and who points out what's at stake.
......
I have traveled so far
See and felt so spar.
Through the invisible map
rode the horses of the land
no time to lend a hand.
It seemed so fast
clearly not to last.
A divertion of a thought
premeditated or fought.
Most times a spectator
......
The other day I met-
A sad looking poet
Walking swift, very fast
Along the railway track.
I just moved ahead,
......
A poet is but
A God in disguise,
Who creates -
Worlds new and alive
Without borders,
States alien and neighbouring
Without wars,
......
A poet
Is someone who
Lives in the mortal world
But loves the immortals,
A poet
Is someone who
Lives in whirlpools of Intolerances
But loves to understand,
......