Purest Form Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

Each time, I think of poetry
The hands automatically fold to an almighty
The head bows down and eyes remain closed
The mind is completely at rest and not crossed

No one can write down poems with pen
As ideas flow smoothly from mind them
The heart is not reacting with typical composition
As some of the poems contain only lyrical notion

What poets have to do with human suffering?
What words come out in the form of offerings?
This can happen only when heart cries?
The burden and atrocities it decries

Poems are not meant for class room presentation
Where poets use fine oratory stuffed with no orientation
Such poems remain only in text books
The ordinary men may listen to poem sand shook head

Poems are like beautiful but ordinary woman
The innocence is reflected in the form of human figure
The poems touch village folk in the form of songs
Such poems spread long across and never go wrong

The poetry is purest form divinity
You can smell fragrance from humanity
The pain, anger and struggle bring tears
The eyes convey but refuse to bear