To write all I need is a "WORD" to be said by,
But They laugh when Truth is said aloud.
Uneasy found at a request small,
A Mess created at the end, Mad I am called.
Truth is but different, all words are good,
How well they are put and in what context?
How good you are to use in proper sense?
Writings Chosen: If in divinity are Pious.
"Word" I always need be worth of its salt,
To inspire thoughts, To gather in greed to ink.
Saw many flow Lucid fast,
Some stay as Hawks to cleanse, remains thereafter.
An advantage if words go along with thoughts,
To weights of all hearts in Ink Black.
A task tough to bear in days to come fast dear,
A mishap it is called to lose words to write.
In words Harsh and by names unheard,
You are called, loud to be heard.
Sad to reveal all here my Lord,
Make me deaf for I cannot hear anymore.
Comments about this poem (WORDS by Shantharam Bhaskara )
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