Poetic Feed Poem by Subrata Ray

Poetic Feed.

Why did I sing my song
to ply her pulse and stir a look,
Knowing not the uncertain harangue,
and all a commanding book.

Where, when and how
the songs turned into an arrow,
my Cupid could have no guess ,
how the love was brought into my barrow.

Her flight in the blue-deep was never narrow,
the lea, mountain and the sea were with her,
though far to reach, I had a romantic jar.

Why did I sing my song,
and committed an undue wrong,
In her liberated isle with my missile,
Till beeps in my reeds.
I confess, I had no poetic feed.