Why is it that the plaintive wail of a lovelorn soul,
Spewing heartbursts of love, unheeded by his lady,
Or the welling tears of an orphaned foal,
Staring blankly at her mother’s bullet-ridden body.
Strong emotions deified in crimson by words sublime,
Like soldiers who are heroes of many insignificant fights,
Hapless warriors dying for fruitless causes in senseless battles,
Spawn powerful words reaching immense poetic heights.
Dishonourable is it to render into poetic verse,
The graceful arc of a seabird’s flight,
The setting sunbeam’s sliver through distant clouds,
Or the misty pink dawn’s surreal light?
Why do wild daisies swaying gently in a breeze serene,
Not find a poet to write of them in scarlet rhyme,
And a magnificent river meandering since endless time,
Must flow silently on, its splendour unnoticed, unseen?
While poetry thrives on exaggeration supreme,
Must they only go with vainglory, hate or pain,
Are there not reasons to render words into a poetic bent,
Like Beauty, Joy and Happiness to burst forth like heady champagne?
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Words by Biswajit Basu )
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