Poets, Mad People - Poem by Boudhayan Mukherjee
Why do I marvel
at your presence
Is it your soft navel
my twilight lessons
Or photo-still afternoons
a low-lying bed
Me waiting for boons
that you'll give what you said
was only for me....
Poets are mad people
Prone at he altar of your feet.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You