Am I a stupid flatterer or a poet?
Am I a courtier or a democrat?
As I breathe freely without help
So I write my own grief, without help
Many frustrated and cried, I know
For the name and fame and game
And those who acquired, I know
How steered the bout with helm
What language does have the pain?
I know who lays the egg, cock or hen
I haven’t seen the tears on the faces
I haven’t heard the cries of masses
I swam on their curious lovely puny eyes
Saw there in ocean, the motley of sighs’
When all the eyes had a hope of surprise
Then I myself became the eyes and raise
Though I know path is thorny
Yet I bleed from heart through my foot
It sounds unpleasant and irony
All think, from flower, me a shoot
All think, from flower, me a shoot..this verse shows your uniqueness, Though I know path is thorny Yet I bleed from heart through my foot It sounds unpleasant and irony....elaborate that you are enough brave to raise your voice for truth even in the hard tribulation & trials.. What language does have the pain? ....shows that you are sobbing & crying inside.. When all the eyes had a hope of surprise Then I myself became the eyes and raise... amazing lines to motivate us that still hope is there, so keep hoping & don't let grief to spoil you....excellent.
your last stanza is a perfect ending to your poem nicely written
A note of melancholy hovers over like mist and you speak through the language of pain! So the poem leaves a tugging effect! !
Pains and cries unexpressed and feelings not communicated are the subject of you poem. You are raising their voice. a good empathetic composition.
excellent write. enjoyed it fully and i am totally with Fara while assessing the poem....10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nothing to grief so long as hope is there, good write, thanks. Please read my new poems and comment and vote.