The Amateur Poet Poem by Subrata Ray

The Amateur Poet



The Amateur Poet.

My darling urges to write a poem,
And praise her beauty, her name,
And to say the readers how I love her,
And an oath to be under her cover.

I confessed with an warmth embrace,
Ah! Yes, poetry comes from a lady's grace,
All poets' make the lady the muse of their story,
And in her absence fades away their poetic glory.

Petrarch for Laura dug infatuations well,
Shakespeare could not consume the Dark Lady's cable,
And Tagore fabricated his lost love-tale.
Who am I the deuce to write a Bible

Let me be a puppet in your booklet,
And paint the dances of your whims,
With all flattery of yours in my rime.
I claim no prospect of my fate,
You would make me an amateur poet.

Saturday, November 5, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: satire
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Subrata Ray

Subrata Ray

Formerly East Pahistan
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