Blown beliefs; Show the doorway
Shattered thoughts litter the floor
Lost confidence.
Motionless my pen drips on faded paper
Words stagnant as leaves
on lake.
A remark, from someone
Far away, makes me rethink
Read again, in a drift
Where the readers would gain
I reflect.Why me?
My thoughts stand still
I walk uphill, against my will
A ripple comes
The pen no longer slips, on each word
It plants a kiss, at the heart of paper
I write again,
Nor for adoration
But for the stone that creates ripples.
A stream flows, sunrays rain on earth, wind blows and the metaphors can keep striking the mind without an end. Who do it for reward, why expectation, keep giving whatever you have to give, without hoping anything in return, all the givers are rewarded in this manner. Keep doing your thankless duty, where satisfaction is your reward!
Doing deeds is everyones duty without worrying of rewards; which essentially are in the Divine hands.
Readers who may feel lost, sometimes do seek direction from poems. It is good to be a guide to others. Writing helps you for reasons only you the writer knows, but writing to help readers offers the divine hand. :) DC
Final comment from Mr Ronal peat, who guided me continuously to improve this poem............ Nikunj Wow! I've created a monster poet. I wouldn't change a word in this poem. Hell you've done it, and in grand style. Every line is a whiplash of content, metaphor and intent along with form. Now write this kind of poem for at least a month or more then you'll be ready for end line rhyme and meter. I know you have slipped a few end line rhymes in but they work ok. The internal rhyme is grand as well. I can't believe how good you've become. One little thing here a misspelling on (center) on L4 unless they spell it differently there. (American English is (center) but it might be different where you live) . I don't know. a poet friend RH Peat
Very good pupil, I guess Ronald would say. I enjoy your journey, where you leave despair and humiliation behind, and now are heading 'the stone that creates the ripples'. Let your pen keep on planting kisses on words, Nikunj!
Beautiful imagery. I loved 'motionless my pen drips on faded paper, words stagnant as leaves on lake'. Also, 'the pen's kiss on the the heart of paper' is just superb. I particularly like the whole poem Nikunj. 10 love Karin
beutiful sharma... you v done a pretty piece....it comes dtsiaght from the heart and goes rt in to the other.....nothing can stop it very well chosen parameters....lovely to read and charmning to the wit.. cheers....ten i recall... No longer Circe could her flame disguise, But to the suppliant God marine, replies: When maids are coy, have manlier aims in view; Leave those that fly, but those that like, pursue. If love can be by kind compliance won; See, at your feet, the daughter of the Sun. Sooner, said Glaucus, shall the ash remove From mountains, and the swelling surges love; Or humble sea-weed to the hills repair; E'er I think any but my Scylla fair. Strait Circe reddens with a guilty shame, And vows revenge for her rejected flame. Fierce liking oft a spight as fierce creates; For love refus'd, without aversion, hates. To hurt her hapless rival she proceeds; And, by the fall of Scylla, Glaucus bleeds. by Ovid (20 March 43 BC – AD 17) Publius Ovidius Naso Book The Fourteenth Metamorphoses.
I'm afraid that if I add a description to this poem even with a comment, I might just take away from its completeness...will add to my faves! thanks, roshni.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
yep dear Nikunj i know you do all this for readers like us we enjoy them so dont you worry about adverse comments from people who dont like your poems, remember each has his own mind but the majority is for you this is a great write a tenner for you love anjali