A House Of Critics Has Died, Now None Is There To Sit And To Review My Poetry

Poem By Bijay Kant Dubey

The house
Which had been abuzz
With the critics
Has now fallen silent
After their departure
One by one
Exiting from
From the stage
And leaving me
And poetry.

My father,
My mother,
My aunt,
My youngest brother,
My eldest brother,
All of them are gone,
Now how much lonely feel I
That you don't know,
I pray to God to take me away too.

Comments about A House Of Critics Has Died, Now None Is There To Sit And To Review My Poetry

Good one. We want you here on PH. We will replace them as your critics.


Other poems of DUBEY

A Dance Is A Poem Gestured Through

A dance is a poem
Gestured through
The body language
And its signs and symbols,

The Dark Daughter

The Dark Daughter
The dark daughter, dark not, but beautiful,
Call her not dark,
As she dark not, my dark daughter,

The Madman Going

The madman going.
Have you felt his life?
How mad is he?

The Song From The Heart

In a very sweet and sonorous voice, sing you, say you,
Said she the girl in a golden and nasal sound of her own,

Do you love me? Do you love me?

George Floyd

I have just heard about
The incident,
But sometimes do they mistake
In handling cases

Is Bob Dylan A Poet?

Is Bob Dylan a poet or a songwriter? Is he a guitarist or a songwriter or a singer or both? Who is Bob Dylan? A singer or a songwriter or a guitarist or a music composer? Who is, who is he?

A poet or a songwriter? Who, who is this Dylan? Can his songsbe called poems? Is poetry songwriting? Is poetry song and music, a combination of it? Is he a music-maker, a word-maker?