Pen rowdy.
But pen your own.
Let the cracked nib,
Spew ink, blotches.
Rosarch ones.
Yet your nude self,
In a mirror,
Reading Ambulance,
Inverted.
Pen, do not write.
Writing is minding.
A pen with an existent,
Class teacher mind,
Bland concoction of your wild.
Spring forth.
Be the mighty amazon.
Flood the valleys of mundane.
Burst hitherto held banks.
Let there be anarchy,
In the harmony,
Of your image.
Hardik Mahesh Vaidya.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem