A Writer, A Poet And An Editor, A Critic, A Teacher
A Writer, A Poet And An Editor, A Critic, A Teacher


A writer reads the poetry of other writers, with the flair of a poet
He enjoys their poetry. With his emotions as a poet
He can never become a editor
Who reads, a poet’s poetry as a critic
And give marks on their poetry as a teacher
They turn the writer’s poetry of imagination
Into a symbol of school exam, by giving them marks
A writer, a poet, do not walk on a single beaten track
Only then do they make a new legend from their imagination
And make a necklace, from the pearls of their words
An editor, a critic, a teacher, keep reciting, a, b, c, d
Time and time again for a life time
A writer, a poet reads the words of other poets,
From the essence of their own imagination and poetic romanticism
An editor, a critic, a teacher, reads the writings of writers
With the intent of looking at the writer as a student
Who needs to be disciplined as per their wish
From the fear of their cane
A critic, a teacher, is always busy in correcting the grammar
A writer, a poet, only wants to live in the flourish of their imagination
A writer, a novelist, dwells in his fairyland world, of imagination
A poet, dwells in his world, of romanticism
An editor, dwells in his world, of putting the society in order
A critic, dwells in his world, of making th
e world order, by his rules
A teacher, dwells in his world, of disciplining his students
They all enjoy the fruits they sow , in their own world
And point fingers at each others world
They do not like the fruit laden trees, of the world of others, other than their own
But still, they sing like parrots, the songs of the world of others
An editor, a critic , give marks to dreams , by seeing them as exam
Because they don’t fathom , the power of imagination
A writer, a poet, are mesmerized by their world of imagination
An editor, a critic, a teacher, just remain summarized in their world of reality
An editor, a critic, a teacher just see the world from the mirror, of bitter lies and bitter truth
A writer, a poet, see and hear the world from the songs of the nightingale
You make, a writer, a poet, a student of a school, taking an exam, by giving him marks
For his imagination, for his dreams, for his romanticism, for his poetry
A writer, a poet, an editor, a critic , a teacher
All part, of the same full moon, moonlight, that brighten the night, on a clear sky
Living their own lives, in their own poetic measure
Living in their own worlds, that give them pleasure
Love, is not a mean thing, it is a passion, for one and all
Jai Hind