Sang yodels a romantic bard
On his love’s round buttocks
Few years afterwards
Rued at those skin-sacks
“Love, nature and beauty!
Is this all real poetry?
All these evanescences
And earthly fetish”
Wondered an odd poet
Wavering in the spoils
Of struggling third world
Weighing his penchants
All his senses aching
Soaked in lamentation
Of his own kith and kin
The poor and downtrodden
From his trembling hand
Slipped his mighty pen
From esoteric heights
Down to the earth and said
“This soil is my text, my quest
As well, my blank note sheet
Where all my letter-seeds
I wish to sow and harvest”
Beautiful and evocative poem. The finishing lines are stupendous
really a fine piece! compact composition...thoughtful......10++++
Poetry is some tools but juz ain't enough to transform third world into first!
I liked this one very much-a nice way of reminding us how poetry needs to be grounded sometimes, or necessarily grounds itself. The pace and imagery are crisp. Thanks.
I liked this one very much-a nice way of reminding us how poetry needs to be grounded sometimes, or necessarily grounds itself. The pace and imagery are crisp. Thanks.
my blank note sheet... yes this is what life is all about and we are all writers who use our mighty pen to create history and nostalgic memories for tomorrow. well said.
Like this everyone is a poet in his or her own way in every field.
i like this poem even though i find it a little hard to understand and follow at parts yet it paints such a beautiful picture of poets soul u make it seam so beautiful
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
goodness.........loved it!