Hasmukh Amathalal

Gold Star - 383,068 Points (17/05/1947 / Vadali, Dist: - sabarkantha, Gujarat, India)

Sinned Against Sin - Poem by Hasmukh Amathalal

I was sinned against sin
The situation was half loss and half win
She was with fluctuating mind
She was confused for the solution to find

I used to draw aspiration in the dream
She was part of my powerful team
I may always be struck with new plot
She was there in particular slot

She felt at one stage that here mind is polluted
Her main thoughts on purity are diluted
She has remained restless for number of days
At least now she has found the reasonable ways

I was deeply disturbed and annoyed
Was the message meant for me and conveyed?
What was she intending to pass on?
So many ideas rushed in minds and gone

She must have thought it privacy invasion
Her modesty was about to be violated in confusion
She had lots of things in mind to address
Whole of relation was in doldrums and in mess

I saw clear danger in it and tried to withdraw
There was one particular lessen to draw
You can’t rely much on female’s views
It may be drawn out of forced reviews

I simply decided to withdraw from the field
She had her own way of thinking and opinion firmly held
I was free and natural bird who may like to have beautiful tunes
What was it to me to have large or big fortunes?

I left everything behind in smokes
I considered it a cruel joke
It had nothing to do with routine life
She was nurturing me in dream as simple wife

It is said” there is someone behind your success”
She may have complete control with full access
You might be even blinded with her dominance
As it is usually happening with the romance

For poets it is nightmare
They have no permanent refuge or to go somewhere
They have their own clipped wings
They easily get carried away when some one sings

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Comments about Sinned Against Sin by Hasmukh Amathalal

  • Mehta Hasmukh Amathalal (5/4/2011 8:29:00 PM)


    Posted By: dexaler7 - on May 4,2011
    yes poets have wings, they must fly high, nice poem
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  • Mehta Hasmukh Amathalal (5/4/2011 7:42:00 AM)


    For poets it is nightmare
    They have no permanent refuge or to go somewhere
    They have their own clipped wings
    They easily get carried away when some one sings
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Poem Edited: Wednesday, May 4, 2011


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