To My Dads Compliment On Face Book - Poem by Hardik Vaidya
Show me one poet who does not write from heart.
Show me one poem not beating alive.
Life when trapped in its motion,
When she is just about to bathe,
In her own self,
With no one between her,
But she and her self,
Is a poem, no great no less.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You