A Poet can Only Capture
I know not what to write!
Grim faces show and fade,
Nothing is long lasting,
Only these lines can capture
The moments of ecstasy.
Old moments give way to
New ones, happy or sad,
Not renewed but brand new.
What is truth?
Still? Gone? Passing?
Or yet to come?
Like droplets trickle down
Through old roof cleavages
Time slips away.
Oh! Poor life
Even the warmth of beloved hands
Don’t stay a little long.
Even within ‘tic tac’ sound
The staring eyes turn away.
‘New’ is life.
‘New’ is truth.
But I am a mere tube light
To enjoy its freshness.
A poet can only capture,
Capture in his lines.
To him moments never die!
A poet can only capture, Capture in his lines. To him moments never die! Truth is beauty and you've said it..good poem..in leisure if would like to, kindly read my 'Kanyakumari'..thanks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dear A poet can only capture, Capture in his lines. To him moments never die! These lines are a feast and poet had did.... A poet only can capture Those immortal moments Portray with in his lines To bestow to the world regards