Poetry Is A Solitary Reaper
Poetry Is A Solitary Reaper1 min 395 1 min 395
Have you ever witnessed the glory?
Hidden in wide arena of poesy,
Reaping art of writing in hilly highland
Growing buds flourishing from south to north, east to west
In every corner of world, poetry is harvesting,
With bunch of joys, laugh, smiles and fun;
Sometimes in lonely clouds, sometimes amongst daffodils
But never attained the mortal death in ages and ages!
Behold! when you chant for poems
Each word speaks tales of our lives,
Emotionally flowing on heart-shaped leaves,
Filled with dew drops; gracefully enlightening
Sometimes carry wisdom, sometimes pleasure
In every walk, you travel with me alike explorer
But never hold silent temper to shade raucous haunt.
Will somebody ask me what poetry made you?
Perhaps I have lot of answers, to sing for thee art
To what I owe my success and peace of my life?
Fortunately, poetry will take the honor and credit
Nevertheless, you battle with me for a long time
And we are not yet done,waiting for a humble day
For we both will have to celebrate together,
In commemoration of our long victory
the art of poetry in my soul which, I bore
Shall remain forever in my heart underneath the shore!