Words have limitations
To define depths
When it's a matter of heart
A Colon a coma
Or an exclamation mark
Often linger and lie,
Or can complicate the task
A full stop seldom signals
An end of the talk
A pause or an abrupt stop
Can mean a lot
A silence, a look,
A gesture or a gaze
Seldom get explained by
An idiom or a phrase
Not to speak of a sullied face
Or of a bruised heart
No alphabet has ever satiated
A soppy secluded thirst
It has never quenched the hunger;
With wordy apple cart
Certain feelings remain alien
To, all the vocab's reach
Be it simile or a metaphor
Or any figure of speech
A deafening silence
Can connote the essence
Sans the structural sense
That all the learned lexis often
Lag, behind despite pretence
All forms of art are meant
To do the same job
A prose or Poetry,
A fiction or a play
Or any kind of -logue.
If words could have, aptly expressed
Varied emotions
Only a poem or any prose
Or any form of art
Could have long before perhaps,
Wisely addressed
All emotive list charts,
Ages before; much earlier
Would have explained
Life's worthy connotations.
©Sachi-11th Aug-2019
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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