Prabhakar Srivastava

A Monarch Was I..

A monarch was I with infinite might
And with boundless veneration
soaring alone beyond every height
In immese inner incredible tranquility
And fully devoid of every passion
Alas! I was turned into a thing of pity

They who in wonder clapped for whom
Jibe today and suggest the ways to boom
I too with a smiling face watch their tacts
While with a withered soul I do introspect

O Passion! It's thy destructive hands
How secretly they murdered an emperor!
From the sea of bliss by throwing on sand
And resurrected as but a miserable beggar

Topic(s) of this poem: passion

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 11, 2018
Poem Edited: Thursday, January 11, 2018

Form: Sonnet

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Swami Vivekanand Once said " This universe is ours to enjoy but want nothing, it makes us beggars and we are the sons of the kings and not of beggars.."

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Comments about A Monarch Was I.. by Prabhakar Srivastava

  • mayank (1/18/2018 9:12:00 AM)

    Nyc poem

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