Mature Thinking Poem by Kesav Venkat Easwaran

Mature Thinking

Rating: 5.0

I try to reach out to the top
For she won't bend down, yield
I know it is her property
What if I go for, make a try?

The ladder, I am on, is mine
Yet it shows resent
Maybe it knows better
The fruit isn't prime ripe

I opt-out to come down,
To leave the tree
No grievance there at all
What I need the time being is
Get examined my eyes!

9th February 2020

Sunday, February 9, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: aspiration,failure,fruit,hope
All our aspirations may not always bear fruit. As old timers say, there is a time for everything to turn ripe
Indira Renganathan 09 February 2020

Lovely last lines...maturity comes to us with ageing with it is wise to wait till the fruit is ripe...indeed a beautiful poem 10+

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Kesav Easwaran 10 February 2020

Yes. Let us wait for the ripe opportunity. A good judgement on conditions around would always help out. Thanks for your good feedback Indira. Liked

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Me Poet Yeps Poet 12 February 2020

For she won't bend down........good one she - - - , NO RESPECTFUL woman will take care will ye

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Kesav Easwaran 12 February 2020

The tree and the fruit are metaphors. I liked your jovial comment, Poet Poet. Thanks a lot

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Me Poet Yeps Poet 12 February 2020

The ability to view all equally is praiseworthy. I admire your thinking. Good write 10+ thanks A MIGHTY you are a hundred percent loved poet so you INSPIRE me and I tread thee KVE

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Edward Kofi Louis 11 February 2020

There is time for everything! ! ! ! Moving along with the truth. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

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Valsa George 11 February 2020

Yes there is a time for everything! Wait patiently without losing hope and continue to persevere is all we can do. Let God reward our efforts....! A poem that sings of resilience....!

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Rose Marie Juan-austin 10 February 2020

Each has its own time, in God's own time. A great philosophical write brilliantly depicted. Loved how this marvelous write has been crafted.

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Kesav Easwaran 10 February 2020

Really so Rose Marie. It is He who does everything. We are mere tools. Wonderful observation on my poem. Thanks a lot

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