The Death Of Poetry Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

The Death Of Poetry

The death of poetry,
How does it die,
What to get it from
Commonplace sentimentalism and sensitivity?

What can it give,
What is it in poetry to hand over
Barring emotion and feeling,
Sentimental statements?

The death of poetry,
When will it die,
can you say it
The mad and maniac patient on the table?

Poor and destitute, hopeless and helpless,
Babbling like an abnormal,
A beggar on the footpath,
The ragged man picking.

Himself smiling, himself sobbing,
Himself weeping, himself wiping out
The tears flowing from,
Oh, the mad man maddening he all!

And they too said it with the advance of civilization,
Modernity, the modernistic trend and post-modernism,
That the world has advanced
and poetry will decline.

Taking their statements in confidence,
Marking life busy, fast and active,
Commercial, mechanical and technical,
I too thought it to be so.

I too in the spurt of the moments, exclaimed it,
Poetry, poetry, poetry,
What is it in poetry,
It is poetry which will madden us all?

The poetry of emotion has it died, the poetry of feeling,
See you, think you not just
About the passing images,
Everything but in a flux.

Who the greater poet, one who thinks or one who materializes,
Transforms dreams into words and works,
Are the engineers, scientists and doctors
Who build bridges, invent and discover and give life to not poets?

Saturday, December 27, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: art
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