Plagiarist Poem by Abdul Wahab
Plagiarist
Plagiarist
I stand at the corner
of the grave yard
Under the cover
of the pitch dark
Wait like a vulture
For the opportunity of
People's going out,
I covertly take out
The organs of good taste
From the dead body
And start to build
A new body
A new poem
I continue to steal
The flesh
The bone
The blood
The skin
And sew them
Till it becomes beautiful
And ready to publish
I am neither an employee
Of the necropsy
Nor a florist,
Not even an artist.
I am only a plagiarist.
The poem becomes mine.
Though the soul of it
Is of another poet
Which I never acknowledge
Or express regret.
BRAVO! Nothing but the truth! Shame on thosa who lack of a creative mind and imaginetion! Excellent write! Thank you for sharing...God Bless You!
Can you spiritually own something you steal? If it is not owned of the spirit, it has no personal attachment or power. The poem just becomes valueless words. Good comparison between a grave robber and a plagiarist.
We are not going to say anything new that is not told yet, but many things we might not have heard and read yet. Plagiarists will be easily identified and not respected..well written poem..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 7:45:37 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Interesting! ! The analogy between the robber hiding in the dark near a cemetry and stealing organs from a cadaver and a plagiarist stealing from the writings of others is simply fantastic!