Poems Today Poem by Rajnish Mishra

Mourn for the departed glory.
For poems that left earth
Unheard, unsung.

Poetry lives in a line, or two,
The rest is merely glue, it's true.

A bold lone stroke stands not for art,
Nor one fine phrase for a poem.

When I see now, what passes for it,
It saddens; emboldens me a bit.

Now I can craft one fine line
At a time
And let it age, like fine vine.