Without dipping the nib
Into the ink-pot,
Struggling to publish,
Doing the proof-reading,
Visiting the busty job press,
Without writing the manuscript,
Trying to save,
One now-a-days calls oneself a poet or a poetess
Sittingly
At home
Pressing the key board
Of the computer
Or the tab
To call oneself a published poet
In this internet age.
How true! Things have really changed within a short span of time. We all are witness to this metamorphosis. Thanks for sharing the poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well said dear poet, that is the spirit of time