A Poet Can

There used to be inspiring words from poet
Kings used them on battle field when nothing was quiet
When it was to be do and die situation and could not wait
A poet can change complete scene with even fate

“Pen is mightier than sword” and impression permanent
No one can dare to face the truth and simple comment
Many autocrats and dictators have failed to face onslaught
They underestimated the power and were simply caught

Revolution is not brought in a day or two or all of sudden
It takes place only when all limits are crossed and roads lay open
When there is no other way than to die unnatural death
The course is automatically chosen irrespective of faith

When rivers are in spate they bring about complete destruction
They wait for none to guide and receive no instructions
It is momentum in their flow that clears the way
Aggressive posture with destruction and then coolly stay

Why poets of modern age are considered pawn in their game?
Have they bartered away their interest `and share the blame
Are they not capable of leading anymore bloodless revolutions?
Is it meek surrender on their part for without any resolutions?

Are we not in streets for begging paltry sum in reward?
Does the spirit and power is washed away in words?
Is it not strange o beg for articles to be read on request?
May be it is present day scene to go for any solution or quest

“I will read only when you read mine” curt reply is received
“I shall surely read yours” with this inner soul is deceived
Why at all there should be some unhealthy practice?
Have we ever take note of it or any notice?

I can assertively stand firm and say” I have bartered the soul”
I see nothing wrong in present age as I don’t smell foul
You have no means to survive and time has come crawl
There should be no reason why one should not make withdrawal

You are shot sure to rot if don’t change to circumstances
Renowned poets have died from poverty for instances
If some one has succeeded then it has remained only in text
It is really human plight and tragedy that is waited for next

Nature and sky has remained same for ever
So is the whether and rain with thunder forever
They come and go as usual in right hour
We don’t realize it and turn into sour

by Hasmukh Amathalal

Comments (2)

The woes of poets are brought in here very nicely.
Intense and very thoughtful write, Hasmukh. It seems as if you're in a minstrel courtyard, presenting your case for the poet: ' Why poets of modern age are considered pawn in their game? ' And again....' Are we not in the streets for begging paltry sum in reward? ' How philosophic can you be? our battlefield has become more intriguing so full of deception, deceit and damnation our ocean so immense, so complex as it washes all shores with litanies oh yes! our poems are like sea shells always a conch echoing in the wind of time. Thanx for sharing. Blessings. Leonard