When I Am Insulted.... Poem by Madhav Sarkunde

When I am insulted
or offended publically
I lapse into poetic mood.

Is there any relation
between pain and poetry?
of course, there is!
or it will not have come
to dwell in our wounded soul.


When in delight,
we float like a wooden log
on the top of roaming waves.
In pains, we drown deep down
to the bottom where we find pearls.


Pains perfect puerile person in us
they cleanse and clear earth in us
wherein sprout up thoughts of pure
contemplation in leisurely hours.


Yes! We try to live in pleasure
while being chased by displeasure
we hate to be visited by moments
of mourning which drill us in living

We flinch to accept the dark truth
that pains are worth of our mirth
and hike value of our lungs' labor


Pains are like the coating on the back of mirror
without which we cannot see our real countenace.