Is it me or my strength
Of imagination?
Whatever you like
Like those with pleasure
And freedom
I am delightfully
At my knees
Seeing upon my poems
Of darkness
My wife does not
See me eye to eye
Though I tell her
They are half of me
And the other half is
my imagination
I do not know
Whether she believes me or not
But she can not stand
And takes her bed seriously
Since then
DeedsYour real identityWordsFail both to carry.
Without knowing these’s usefulnessI do not know their purpose eitherYet they are happyI am happy too looking at themAs if our only purpose is to be joyous and pass the timeTime has its own end so is oursThere is no other end except the inevitable endingSo what the qualm on purposePurpose is a by-product of…
Though few people may go jealous hereFew might fall pray and be envious thereStill I claim most of them are innocentFree from bigotry, free from garrulous hateThey care and love they cherish and nurtureTruth, beauty and what is high and great.
Like many but they never invite me as I am a very ordinary man.I frantically search the waysScrutinize the graph the rise of the people shownAnd become famousI find in them many qualitiesThey follow many rulesOne of those: they are very amicableWhich I lack mostIf the rise of a life is through the rulesIt curtails…
Perfectly rhymedFather saidIt is not a poemI changed courseNext fewI wroteWithout rhymeFather saidIt’s a proseWhat’s makes a poemI was in deep thoughtAnd wrote onSome truthsLike birth and death‘’These smellsLike gospelsPoem is like foliageOf your heartYellowFalls on your pageWith a sweet soundOf music on the ground’’He said.
Nay!You are inferior to me‘Cause of the value of my runningOh! MankindBehold the battle in you, insideBlazing blisteringly spectacularOf the two, grandThey are engagedUnder the grip of greedAnd enticed by the dazzling desireTo be hegemonic,The basic cause withinBehind every war and conflict
