The Spurned Poet

The Spurned Poet

2 mins

The court fell silent, as I finished reciting my final verses. Then, they erupted into a thunderous applause. ”Oh! How magnificent indeed!” They exclaimed. I was beaming proudly at the inordinate compliments, before my eyes fell on the queen. She did not join in the applause. Her beautiful eyes were, in fact, tinged with the dismal grey of disappointment.

The court dispersed, after having showered me with cheer and praise. The queen came down to me in slow, graceful steps. “But my queen,” I uttered in despair, “I had poured my all into this creation. Did it not please you?”

“It has pleased the others, why are you worried then ?”

“I created it for you alone. I do not care for any other appreciation. ”

“In that case, I shall have to disappoint you. I found your creation shallow. You were in a hurry to impress me. You ignored the work at hand. You strung together in haste a pompous array of words, without much of a substance. I love your work for its compelling brevity. But your latest simply carries the burden of thoughtless verbosity.“

I could not protest. The queen smiled at my crestfallen face.

“My highest exaltation is reserved only for you. But I cannot gift it to you undeserved. The arrow does not hit the target, my dear; the unerring aim of the marksman does it. Your eyes were fixed on my heart, and not on your composition. Hence, your distracted words failed to hit the mark of greatness.”

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