Hardik Vaidya

Rookie - 314 Points (26 Dec 1969, I won't be dead till you know I am alive. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

To The 13 Year Old From Venezuela. - Poem by Hardik Vaidya

A young man just 13, writes to me,
Tells me Sir you are a great poet,
Guide me.
I feel so nude, so terrified, and so non me.
Young man, I am just a scribbler,
Writing from the discarded broom,
Spent after cleaning my minds gloom,
You are the spring of my tomorrow,
The bloom of youth, bursting to spume,
Your wisdom of energy, the spark of entirety,
Don't seek my advise,
Believe in your pen and your minds wild ride,
If your blood does not flow wild,
The middle aged dead horse that writes,
Will never forgive his generations short sight.

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

There is a 13 year old member fellow poet who has made me so proud that he approached me for guidance and addressed me as a great poet. How selfless and nascent are our true inhabitants of tomorrow and how corrupt and vile are we their current idols, I am blessed to be sought, and I am cursed to be bankrupt as I don't have it in me to guide any one when I myself am an explorer. God Bless you Son.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, February 28, 2013

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