The Poet’s Black Beards, The Poet’s Or The Lover’s? / Keep Beards If You Want To Be A Poet/ First Be A Lover Then A Poet Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

They asked me to keep beards
As for to be a poet
And as per their suggestion and advice kept I
To start my journey

And my beards grew they not,
Hence, waited I for their growing
But poetry came to me not
And I thought of waiting for and maturing.

Again, my eyes met with the lustrous eyes of a maiden,
Her anklets sounded
And my study mood broke it
On marking the beautiful maiden

Under the moonlit night
And turned I into a lover
And my beards grew it
When I yearned to meet her.

But the world stood in between
As had it been villainous
Between Laila and Majnu
And I turned into a lover.

Again, when she was taken away forcibly,
My beards flowing then
Turned me into a saint,
Unaware of worldiness.

After having missed her unluckily,
Turned I into a sick and ailing person,
My heart aching and throbbing,
Pains raking me badly.

Again, stood I up to console my broken self,
Tried to do meditation closing the eyes,
Concentrating on the Divine
Who the giver of life and light.

Tried to see the red roses and the things of the wide world,
The woods, hills, rivers,
Highlands and downlands,
Passing my time in their serenity, tranquility and solitude.

As thus, tried I to turn my mind,
Diverting and deviating from,
Devoting to something else
And lo, turned I into a worshipper of the pied beauty of His.

Turned I into a sadhaka
And poetry grew out of my sadhna
Beaming under the Light Divine,
Writing inspirational poetry.