A Poems Are Treasure Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

Neither poems are lost treasure
nor they are means of pleasure
they are meant to be enjoyed by others
We need not go into it and bother

they are never lost from mind
They appear in many forms and we do find
there is place and existence
it has no past but real presence

Why do the thoughts emerge?
Why do they compel and urge?
Some happy moments to bear the shape?
Though with some bitter moments of shame?

It has equal bearing and importance
They invade sudden and at once
We got to give them place and honor
They may represent reality with horror

It may not be appreciated or liked by all
It may not be able to bring down the wall
But it will definitely pierce through the mind
Where it will generate the feelings very kind

It is simple projection coming out from clear conscience
It is reflective mood of the presence
It might have witnessed many pulses of high magnitude
It may speak nicely of the individual's attitude

Can any one take notes on piece of paper and write?
Can that draw any attention when you call some one or invite?
It may be commented as good or nice
But no one may commit or assure with promise

Many may be writing with great skill and deep feeling
It may not be finding favor or end with reeling
It is not the simple tact of conveying the message
It is not usual to come with the passing of the age

The poems are reflection of the natural mood
It acts like nourishment and serves as food
It is phenomenal development of the mind
It is generally accepted for its rich kind

It is nice medium to feel and convey
It responds to pure feelings and obey
It is not just putting of the simple views
This fact is realized by only few

The poems must find and be read in real context
It must have unique thinking with powerful text
It has writer's mind with powerful couplet
It should not meet cruel fate

The poems are read with zeal
It is not fictitious but real
It may serve as tonic or meal
It can assuage your feelings or heal

It is reflective mood of the poet
He can compose all but can't keep quiet
The poems may serve as eternal ground
We may like it more with intense bond