The Struggle of Creativity
Don't be a creative soul,
you won't survive.
I crack my knuckles
hoping my bones will speak to me
but all they ever say is
"give up while you still can"
so I have silenced them
but my hands are sore
and every bone in my body yells,
they say they're tired of the whimpering echoes
my heart makes every time I fail
and I yell back
that I'm so sorry for putting them through
what I thought was creative integrity.
I thought it was beautiful to create,
but no one tells you how easy it is
to fail at something before you even start
I feel I'm already at the end of a road
I haven't set foot on.
I should be a doctor
and try to save lives the normal way
because reviving humans through words
is so far from simple.
I could be a lawyer
but justice is so starved.
Maybe I could work in an office
like my parents
but I know I'd stare at myself
every night and day
wondering why the hell I let myself settle.
Sorry mom and dad,
you raised someone who has
fallen in love with the idea
that words change the world
I'm sorry I can't sit among classmates
studying Freud and learning derivatives
mathematics and psychology
I just want to learn how
if we put enough passion into something
it can grow beyond our imaginations
I never dance on the idea of failure
because if I lose at this
I will have proven to the world
that life really is mediocre
but I refuse to believe such a thing.
I know how to take these opportunities
and let them flourish
I know how to be brilliant
everlastingly genius
I can be that
It's who I am
and if anyone tells me otherwise,
they're lying.
poem by Vanessa Grixti
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Related quotes
How Deep Is Your Love?
Superficial, or sacrificial?
Secular, or the supernatural?
How deep is your love?
Would you give up quality of life?
Or give up life itself?
To what do we let go?
To what do we hold on?
People or objects?
How far do we go,
Before we move on?
To our breaking point,
Or until we have proven it.
Hold on to resentment,
Let go of another.
Prove our point, or to prove love.
Beauty is only skin deep.
But beautiful is at the core.
The spirit lives forever.
It endures all.
Our essence, our core, is love itself.
Given by God, as He lives inside of us.
He is buried deep,
Surrounded by lies.
Lies we have bought in a cold cruel world.
A world of shallow love.
Love of self, at the cost of another.
She walked away,
He waited.
She asked, "Why when you had me you did not want me, "
"But now I am gone, and you will fight? "
"You have changed, but it is too late."
"For I have found another."
The man replied, "The answer is simple."
"Why is it, you have me now and do not want me? "
"I have proven the truth of my love."
"I have endured a thousand deaths."
"I have risen each time."
"To become love itself."
"Not for me, but for you."
"Affection is shown, but love is assumed."
"To the superficial, love is all show."
"To the sacrificial, love is the show."
"I can tell you I love you,
"But the words have no substance."
"They disappear in thin air."
"Love is patient."
"Love as a feeling, will come and go."
"Feelings are impatient."
"It is truth that never changes."
"And love, that is true, will endure all."
"As it has since the beginning of time."
"Not as defined by society."
"But as defined by the creator and sustainer."
"It is only once the feelings have broken the heart, the holder of the feelings."
"That the beholder is freed."
"To show the love that will never be broken."
"Love that is true."
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Commandeering
Our hero was a Tommy with a conscience free from care,
And such an open countenance that when he breathed the air
He mopped up all the atmosphere -- so little went to spare
You could hardly say he breathed, he "commandeered" it.
For nowadays you'll notice when a man is "on the make",
And other people's property is anxious for to take,
We never use such words as "steal", or "collar", "pinch", or "shake".
No, the fashion is to say we "commandeered" it.
And our simple-minded hero used to grumble at his lot,
Said he, "This commandeerin's just a little bit too hot,
A fellow has to carry every blooming thing he's got;
Whatever he puts down they'll commandeer it."
So after much anxiety our simple-minded elf
He thought he'd do a little commandeering for himself,
And the first thing that he'd noticed was a bottle on a shelf
In a cottage, so he thought he'd commandeer it.
"What ho!" says he, "a bottle, and, by George, it's full of beer,
And no commanding officer to come and interfere.
Here's my own blooming health," says he, "I'm on the commandeer."
And without another word he commandeered it.
On his subsequent proceedings we must draw a little veil,
For the Boers had left some sheep dip in that bottle labelled "Ale";
But the doctor said he's shift it -- if all other methods fail,
We must use the stomach pump and commandeer it.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The day we said goodbye
"The day we said goodbye"
(Narrative Poem)
I was sitting in the far corner of the room
I was thinking about you how you are in pain
I was hoping and praying that you come back to us again
I asked God to give us a chance to take care of you as you take care of your children.
I have so much faith in my heart that God will grant my prayers as He always did.
But as I was pondering about of what will happen then if God will take you that time there was an urge for me to go to the bed where you lay fighting for life.
I kiss your cheek and rub your forehead lovingly hoping it will ease some pain you are suffering telling you you're not alone you are accompanied by so many.
As I was saying those words you nod your head to me I thought you came back but that was the last time I saw you move as I looked at you
You're not breathing anymore.
I rubbed my eyes hoping I was wrong but indeed! "MAMA YOU'RE DEAD"!
I walked away quietly surprisingly I was very calmed I told my sisters to call the nurses.
They asked me why? I can not said the horrible words I just sat back again in the corner where I was still hoping I was wrong that you are still breathing.
The nurses came and said "She is gone". They called the doctor and he said the same..."She is gone".
Mama I never thought that was my last kiss for you
The last words I uttered "I love you Ma".
The day we said goodbye is the day you died.
Every time I think of your death I feel like a sharp knife pierce to the deepest chamber of my heart.
I long to hear your voice even you're upset
I long to hug you sometimes teased you
I long to take you with me hoping I give you some happiness
I long to show you love I know I did not showed you enough
I long to tell you I LOVE YOU with all my heart
But I know it is just all longings nothing more I can do
I know you're with the LORD and with Papa and Kuya
I hope you're still watching us even from afar
And I hope you help me cope with this longing I am feeling inside
MAMA you are always my guiding light I know even from heaven you still give us your love.
No one can give us love beyond this life but you my beloved MAMSI.
Written……11-11-2012
poem by Emelita C. Smith
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An Idea
An Idea can change the world, how many
things can be done from an idea, every piece
of object was an idea, sense the beginning of
time idea was the first thought created in the
mind, an idea is what surround’s every being.
But an idea is still only an idea and it can't be
felt, you cannot touch an idea or kiss it, or hold it,
ideas do not bleed or feel pain or love, an idea
cannot be seen or heard, its created in our thoughts,
but then again an idea can become real. An idea
can be what ever you which it to be, an idea can
be destructive, an idea can be brilliant, I've seen
people get killed in the name of ideas, ideas,
we walk around with a little
light bulb blinking in our thoughts, ideas.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Crack The Code
I want the words
something you havent heard
will I find them and
will I have what it takes to say them
in the world beside
this one there are no lies and
no suspicion
only dreams without end
You gotta feel what I mean
Look into my eyes and know
Im trying to come clean
But I stumble every time
And then the words they escape
fail to take shape
Its all in the code now (come again)
Feel what I mean
Look into my eyes and know
Im trying to come clean
But I stumble every time
And then the words they escape
fail to take shape
Its all in the code now
Will you let me retract let me take it back
Sometimes my words lack and my mind flies off the track
What Im trying to convey is miles from what I say
And you slip away
In life there are times
when nothing will rhyme
there are days I slip
when I know I should climb
breakin the vows I swore Id never break
a harsh word a white lie easy to mistake
where have you been
havent you noticed
theres no map that exists
to point us out of this
my heart was the target
it found your arrow
baby you know I want to be
your straight and narrow
I been trying to transmit a feeling
I been hoping you receive what Im revealing
See the main thing is hang with me and relate
As we communicate watch out
Fenced in like a dog between houses
Balled up by the trouble my mouth gets
Wrapped up in the things that I dont know
dont you know
Hoping that you crack the code oh
The first to crack the code
(You may not think Im ready to have your love again) oh oh
(You may not think Im ready)
You are the first to crack my code
I want the words
something you havent heard
will I find them and
will I have what it takes to say them
You gotta gotta feel what I mean
Look into my eyes and know
Im trying to come clean
But I stumble every time
And then the words they escape
fail to take shape
Its all in the code now
Didnt I know Im wrong wrong wrong when you knew
You didnt have to give me so long long long to see through
Not predictable what I will do but you know
Cause you cracked the code
Your body is a country
that you know Ill return to
craving like a family heirloom
that I am into
no baby how could I follow
everything you do
just remember when we touch
I feel so renewed
The first to understand me that would be you
It cant work if we cant be open and true
The best thing to happen to me let it be told
That would be the moment that you cracked my code oh oh
The first to crack the code
(You may not think Im ready to have your love again) oh oh
(You may not think Im ready)
You are the first to crack my code
song performed by by 311
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A failure is an opportunity
You fail today; I know how it feels to be a failure.
It will be sad. You mourn alone, nobody mourns for you.
It will be silent. The noise of failure is too much inside
Your ears, lots of evil voices speak, like you are
A nobody
A failure
A disservice, a uselessness, the smallness of you
Like a miniature plastic soldier toy in the cabinet
Set aside for being so unattractive,
You shrink in society, and friends shy away now,
In failure you are alone, and you cry alone, if you
Will it that way,
If you will it,
You fail and forever you are a failure, a loser,
A sore loser,
But think a little deeper this time,
Who in this world never had a failure once in a while?
Isaac Newton, Thomas Edison, Albert Einstein,
Abraham Lincoln, Ronald Reagan, George Bush,
Give me a name, and I will cite their failures,
Give me a name of a man who never failed
And I will show you that dead man in his grave.
My friend, failure is an opportunity to be great
Learn, learn, and learn, take the failure as your
Platform to catapult you to something higher than yourself,
Jump and rise to some other better opportunities,
Learn and be a new person again, stronger and wiser this time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Computer
"what?" they say, "you got a
computer?"
it's like I have sold out to
the enemy.
I had no idea so many
people were prejudiced
against
computers.
even two editors have
written me letters about
the computer.
one disparaged the
computer in a mild and
superior way.
the other seemed
genuinely
pissed.
I am aware that a
computer can't create
a poem.
but neither can a
typewriter.
yet, still, once or
twice a week
I hear:
"what?
you have a
computer?
you?"
yes, I do
and I sit up here
almost every
night,
sometimes with
beer or
wine,
sometimes
without
and I work the
computer.
the damn thing
even corrects
my spelling.
and the poems
come flying
out,
better than
ever.
I have no
idea what causes
all this
computer
prejudice.
me?
I want to go
the next step
beyond the
computer.
I'm sure it's
there.
and when I get
it,
they'll say,
"hey, you hear,
Chinaski got a
space-biter!"
"what? "
"yes, it's true!"
"I can't believe
it!"
and I'll also have
some beer or
some wine
or maybe nothing
at all
and I'll be
85 years old
driving it home
to
you and me
and to the little girl
who lost her
sheep.
or her
computer.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Goodbye Mine M.j.
A "Stranger in Moscow" told me that you've gone!
But is it true that you've gone my M.J.?
And with tears in my eyes I say goodbye my M.J.
You who feeds the eyes and the ears
And has graced our African soil
But why did you have to go, you "Smooth criminal"
When you know "They don't care about us"
Tell me, who will "Heal the world"?
Who will make it a better place for us?
Who will give to the poor once and again to their necessity?
Who will be there for them in their anguish and pain?
O', know you not that admired you are of those that hate you most
And did you have to go; or where you too lonely?
But you said "We're the world" that "You are not alone"
Then why did you have to go? And did you leave another "Thriller"
If no, then why choose to be "The man in the mirror"
Thus dirge and elegy now met in my heart. Why?
"Do you remember the time" we first met in my dream
And "The way you make me feel" with your "Childhood"?
Oh king of pop, my M.J., "I want you back"
And you "Got to be there" for me on my birthday
To sing me your song, "Don't stop till you get enough"
While "Rockin Robin and Ben" "Off the wall" till they "Scream"
For your love is magical because you're angelica
You are so wonderful because you're beautiful
You are indispensable because you're irreplaceable
And now I see the "Liberian girl" cry because you're "Speechless"
And upon our bodies the nighted color of mourning you. Why?
Alas death! Why taketh him away when all that look on him yet not satisfied?
O', let not the world lose another "Michael Jackson".
Michael I love you "Yesterday, today and forever."
May the spirit light your way
Through the land of the shadow
To the halls of eternal peace. Amen.
In the cabinet of my imagination, in the treasury of my reason, in the registry of my conscience, and in the council chamber of my thought, there shall you live forever.
I LOVE YOU MINE M.J.
poem by Lightcheerful Briggs
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Life For Rent
I haven't ever really found a place that I call home
I never stick around quite long enough to make it
I apologize that once again I'm not in love
But it's not as if I mind
that your heart ain't exactly breaking
It's just a thought, only a thought
But if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy
Well I deserve nothing more than I get
Cos nothing I have is truly mine
I've always thought
that I would love to live by the sea
To travel the world alone
and live more simply
I have no idea what's happened to that dream
As there's really nothing left here to stop me
It's just a thought, only a thought
But if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy
Well I deserve nothing more than I get
Cos nothing I have is truly mine
But if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy
Well I deserve nothing more than I get
Cos nothing I have is truly mine
While my heart is a shield and I won't let it down
While I am so afraid to fail so I won't even try
Well how can I say I'm alive
But if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy
Well I deserve nothing more than I get
Cos nothing I have is truly mine
But if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy
Well I deserve nothing more than I get
Cos nothing I have is truly mine
Coz nothing I have is truly mine,
Coz nothing I have is truly mine,
Coz nothing I have is truly mine.
song performed by by Dido
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost Love, Never Found
So many times I have been asked,
"Are you alone on this moonlit night?
Do you live in solitude, never to open your eyes to the world?
Do you know of all those alive
Searching everyday for somebody to love and for
Somebody with whom to fall in love with? "
Someone to give you flowers,
To dine with or to hold in one's arms?
Are you alone on a rainy night, or
By yourself on a lovely spring day,
Taking each step you take in solitude,
With nobody to share your thoughts with-
How many years have you lived alone
With nobody to open your heart up to? "
These are the words and questions of many-
Also asking me how many times I have loved and lost-or
Have you loved and lost before in
Any given moment in time?
All I can do is to respond and say to that world out there continuously wondering is that
I am the queen of my own world; my eyes open to my own thoughts,
Alone in the world of my own imaginings and
Rejoicing every day and night to be
Alone in my own special castle- loving myself and
Being my own best and closest friend-
Solitude is a safe and pleasurable haven for me-
I am alone but never lonely- and if one is to ask me
"Have you ever been in love before and lost?
I can only respond- "I have never lost a love before, because in your eyes,
A love I have never found-but I have learned to be a friend and a loving companion to myself- I trust myself, value my talents and dance, sing and laugh everyday
With myself in solitude- I suppose I have loved before and do love now, as
I have become my own best and closest friend-
I have never loved and lost- because I adore my spirit for some time now and
I haven't had to search further than my own home and yard to find myself, and
It hasn't taken much time for me to come to the realization that
I can find flowers in my own back yard, and
Myself, I shall never lose…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Save the Last Dance For Me
When you're crying and you're all alone
Save the Last Dance for me
When He doesn't call you for that date
on that lonely Saturday nite
while you're left alone and brokenhearted,
Save the last Dance for me
When he makes love to you
Gratifying himself selfishly, and not you
Save the last Dance for me
When his words are degrading to you
painful insults stored in your memory bank
him, telling you, why he has to cheat, to be satisfied
Save the Last Dance for me
When he tells you,
if you get pregnant,
that child is not his
and insists, you get an abortion
when you are left wondering,
How could he deny his child,
Save the Last Dance for me
When he tells you, you are fat,
too skinny for him
Save the Last Dance for me,
Save the Last Dance for me
the very last dance
because,
it will be with me
and it will be forever
You and Me, only
because
I was the one that you didn't realize
was always there
that friend
who always listened
Save the Last Dance for me
poem by Adrienne Clark Strachn
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A Strange Wild Song
He thought he saw an Elephant
That practised on a fife:
He looked again, and found it was
A letter from his wife.
"At length I realize," he said,
"The bitterness of life!"
He thought he saw a Buffalo
Upon the chimney-piece:
He looked again, and found it was
His Sister's Husband's Niece.
"Unless you leave this house," he said,
"I'll send for the police!"
he thought he saw a Rattlesnake
That questioned him in Greek:
He looked again, and found it was
The Middle of Next Week.
"The one thing I regret," he said,
"Is that it cannot speak!"
He thought he saw a Banker's Clerk
Descending from the bus:
He looked again, and found it was
A Hippopotamus.
"If this should stay to dine," he said,
"There won't be much for us!"
He thought he saw a Kangaroo
That worked a Coffee-mill:
He looked again, and found it was
A Vegetable-Pill.
"Were I to swallow this," he said,
"I should be very ill!"
He thought he saw a Coach-and-Four
That stood beside his bed:
He looked again, and found it was
A Bear without a Head.
"Poor thing," he said, "poor silly thing!
It's waiting to be fed!"
poem by Lewis Carroll
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Casualty
That boy I took in the car last night,
With the body that awfully sagged away,
And the lips blood-crisped, and the eyes flame-bright,
And the poor hands folded and cold as clay --
Oh, I've thought and I've thought of him all the day.
For the weary old doctor says to me:
"He'll only last for an hour or so.
Both of his legs below the knee
Blown off by a bomb. . . . So, lad, go slow,
And please remember, he doesn't know."
So I tried to drive with never a jar;
And there was I cursing the road like mad,
When I hears a ghost of a voice from the car:
"Tell me, old chap, have I `copped it' bad?"
So I answers "No," and he says, "I'm glad."
"Glad," says he, "for at twenty-two
Life's so splendid, I hate to go.
There's so much good that a chap might do,
And I've fought from the start and I've suffered so.
'Twould be hard to get knocked out now, you know."
"Forget it," says I; then I drove awhile,
And I passed him a cheery word or two;
But he didn't answer for many a mile,
So just as the hospital hove in view,
Says I: "Is there nothing that I can do?"
Then he opens his eyes and he smiles at me;
And he takes my hand in his trembling hold;
"Thank you -- you're far too kind," says he:
"I'm awfully comfy -- stay . . . let's see:
I fancy my blanket's come unrolled --
My feet, please wrap 'em -- they're cold . . . they're cold."
poem by Robert William Service
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Are You Drinking?
washed-up, on shore, the old yellow notebook
out again
I write from the bed
as I did last
year.
will see the doctor,
Monday.
"yes, doctor, weak legs, vertigo, head-
aches and my back
hurts."
"are you drinking?" he will ask.
"are you getting your
exercise, your
vitamins?"
I think that I am just ill
with life, the same stale yet
fluctuating
factors.
even at the track
I watch the horses run by
and it seems
meaningless.
I leave early after buying tickets on the
remaining races.
"taking off?" asks the motel
clerk.
"yes, it's boring,"
I tell him.
"If you think it's boring
out there," he tells me, "you oughta be
back here."
so here I am
propped up against my pillows
again
just an old guy
just an old writer
with a yellow
notebook.
something is
walking across the
floor
toward
me.
oh, it's just
my cat
this
time.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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A Sick Child
The postman comes when I am still in bed.
"Postman, what do you have for me today?"
I say to him. (But really I'm in bed.)
Then he says - what shall I have him say?
"This letter says that you are president
Of - this word here; it's a republic."
Tell them I can't answer right away.
"It's your duty." No, I'd rather just be sick.
Then he tells me there are letters saying everything
That I can think of that I want for them to say.
I say, "Well, thank you very much. Good-bye."
He is ashamed, and turns and walks away.
If I can think of it, it isn't what I want.
I want . . . I want a ship from some near star
To land in the yard, and beings to come out
And think to me: "So this is where you are!
Come." Except that they won't do,
I thought of them. . . . And yet somewhere there must be
Something that's different from everything.
All that I've never thought of - think of me!
poem by Randall Jarrell
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Theatre Of Dreams
Oh can I lie here, can I whisper; can I tell
you anything that you want to hear,
Is it thoughts, is it feelings, is it what you
need, can I make you feel good,
It's just something that I thought that
you'd like, in a world that's dying,
Oh I can see you smiling. Oh, can I do this
for you?
In the pale and lonely light you feel so
exciting ah,
I fail the words, I need to speak to tell you
how,
You can love who you love, you can be who
you want, in the theater of dreams,
Oh, you can love who you love, you can be
who you want, in the theater of dreams. In
the theater of dreams.
Oh can I touch you, can I hold you, I can
do anything, that you want me to,
Does it hurt, is it OK is it what you need to
make you feel good,
I got something that I think that you'd like,
in a world that's changing,
Oh I can feel you smiling, Oh can I do this
for you?
In a pale and lonely life, you seem so
exciting ah,
I fail the words, I need to speak to tell you
how.
You can love who you love, you can be who
you want, in the theater of dreams.
Oh, you can love who you love, you can be
who you want, in the theater of dreams.
This is where you open up your mind, yeah.
This is where you lose, lose your chains of
time.
In the theater of dreams.
poem by Pawan Kumar 'Meonlafesta'
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With deep respect
I couldn't believe eyes
As she was no less then butterfly
Extremely beautiful and matter of joy
Any one would say "hello" and enjoy
Some of the human beings are just not ordinary
Some praise is must and I feel it necessary
No one can deny existence of almighty
So same is the case with the creative beauty
I was moved with her appearance
She was above all and came before me by chance
It was nice to see her in picture
An absolute and beautiful character with figure
"I see your reflection in beauty"
"From all the angles you are present o, almighty"
I can't take away my eyes
As I get up suddenly to visualize
You are with different form
I feel great and unusually very warm
Soul an heart synchronize with each and every bit
I smile internally, praise it and greet
"Can you not create picture in words"? She had replied
"Surely I can as it can be an order from lord" I relied
Made a point clear and tried to visualize each aspect
It was coming out as natural figure with deep respect
To err is human
But to love is divine
As you are helpless in game
No one can share the blame
Love is to felt from within
When you try to close in
It may be physical contact
But certainly a divine and graceful act
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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September 1961
This is the year the old ones,
the old great ones
leave us alone on the road.
The road leads to the sea.
We have the words in our pockets,
obscure directions. The old ones
have taken away the light of their presence,
we see it moving away over a hill
off to one side.
They are not dying,
they are withdrawn
into a painful privacy
learning to live without words.
E. P. "It looks like dying"-Williams: "I can't
describe to you what has been
happening to me"-
H. D. "unable to speak."
The darkness
twists itself in the wind, the stars
are small, the horizon
ringed with confused urban light-haze.
They have told us
the road leads to the sea,
and given
the language into our hands.
We hear
our footsteps each time a truck
has dazzled past us and gone
leaving us new silence.
Ine can't reach
the sea on this endless
road to the sea unless
one turns aside at the end, it seems,
follows
the owl that silently glides above it
aslant, back and forth,
and away into deep woods.
But for usthe road
unfurls itself, we count the
words in our pockets, we wonder
how it will be without them, we don't
stop walking, we know
there is far to go, sometimes
we think the night wind carries
a smell of the sea...
poem by Denise Levertov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blame It On My ‘Worst Education' Or Lack of Experience?
Blame It On My ‘Worst Education' Or Lack of Experience?
So you callously stated "you have the worst education ever! "
Why can't you guard your mouth? You think so much less of me?
An educated man with your figure would not take off your clothes
You won't go to Dim Sum, oh I forgot, you have no idea what that is!
Gwai2 Lou5 鬼佬 speaks: "hey, what gives? "
我是一個中國人 ￮
Wǒ shì yī gè zhōng guó rén.
Ngo5 hai6 jat1 ge3 zung1 gwok3 jan4.
You have no idea what I just said, so how does that make you feel?
This means I am a Chinese person, did you know that?
With all your Ivy League education, Guǐ Lǎo, you can't speak to me
You've never traveled to Hong Kong or China, do you what the difference are?
You say I'm naïve, Lo Fan, but I know more than you
您是鬼佬! !
Nín shì Guǐ Lǎo! !
Nei5 hai6 Gwai2 Lou5! !
The words I called you
Gwai2 Lou5 鬼佬
Lo Fan 佬番
Guǐ Lǎo
All mean the same, they mean White Devil
My education tells me that, that is you
Who has the ‘worst education' now? !
Now quiet
I know you rarely speak
But make me completely weak
When I rise to stick the stand
You refuse me and fail to understand
I fall like mango fruit
It fails to appeal me or suit
How could I blink at those eyes?
Which were once open to my simple try?
No doubts you were like ivory idol
Carved out from glass as doll
I used to rejoice at simple appearance
Now I have lost it to as rare chance
Nothing to exchange now in form of words
Nothing to look behind as an action afterward
I am lying on ground with clopped wings
A bird alright but no melody in praise to sing
She promised me to be mine
It all appeared pleasing and fine
I was prepared to go for an extra mile
Something unusual took in between for a while
What was charm in her simple look?
Like good smell coming out from food as cooked
Where to start and where to end
She was like angel and heavenly sent
I was simple man in race
Completely lost in glamorous and innocent face
I asked for hand to be permanent
She had something else to comment
"No, dear I can't side with you"
This is correct and only true
What was fun then in any try to woo?
My all energy got lost and forbidden me to flew
I now look at no other charm
If not help but certainly they may harm
I wished warmth and long spell
But here was different story to tell
I am dying of literally death
Some one may come and offer floral wreath
"Here lived an simple soul as poet"
No more words now as he is now quiet"
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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