Of so many moments I could pen,
Would Fail to choose, If I were to begin.
Each moment so deep, ingrained in my soul,
Each moment so pure, untouched by foul.
Know not I, which strings they play..
the chords they pull, the meodies they lay.
Every moment so full, of sadness or joy,
Every moment known, from the times gone by.
A poet's heart they summon, urging him to write,
saying so very often, we want to come to life.
Only a look of despair they get, from the poet they seek,
As he carries not anymore, the burdens they keep.
The guilt of betrayal, does not haunt him though,
Rather be honest, than put on a beautiful show.
What has gone is gone, with every moment lived true,
What is now is real, and it's history shall be new.
For when life goes on, why be left behind...
it comes only once, wasted with every rewind..
what has gone is gone, but it has made me,
what is now isn't aloof, for that is also me.
Would Fail to choose, If I were to begin.
Each moment so deep, ingrained in my soul,
Each moment so pure, untouched by foul.
Know not I, which strings they play..
the chords they pull, the meodies they lay.
Every moment so full, of sadness or joy,
Every moment known, from the times gone by.
A poet's heart they summon, urging him to write,
saying so very often, we want to come to life.
Only a look of despair they get, from the poet they seek,
As he carries not anymore, the burdens they keep.
The guilt of betrayal, does not haunt him though,
Rather be honest, than put on a beautiful show.
What has gone is gone, with every moment lived true,
What is now is real, and it's history shall be new.
For when life goes on, why be left behind...
it comes only once, wasted with every rewind..
what has gone is gone, but it has made me,
what is now isn't aloof, for that is also me.
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Best part from the whole poem: :)
ReplyDeleteFor when life goes on, why be left behind...
it comes only once, wasted with every rewind..
what has gone is gone, but it has made me,
what is now isn't aloof, for that is also me.
Thank you shyam
DeleteThank you shyam
DeleteI liked this line
ReplyDelete"As he carries not anymore, the burdens they keep."
Seems like people expect you to write the way you used to and you dont want to anymore. But you can write about anything and that's where the poet's artistry lies. You dont have to feel the emotions firsthand but you could write in empathy? Maybe there are certain notes you touch with your pen more masterfully than the others that your audience identifies with and puts the burden on you, unknowingly.
It was not about the world but those moments in life which remind you of a past moment.
DeleteThanks fr reading