The Poet's Curse

By Prasheel Mathray

A Poet's biggest curse, is to always be a poet,

but never for once a poem, always living as if a hermit,

He describes everything around him with or without worth with a fine grace,

but never had the courage to open his hearts-place,

he is never afraid for if he is judged,

rather the atrocities his words will cause, enough for a world-smudged,

for if once he surpasses his fears,

not even Alexander can taunt him, with all of his spears,

Every poet once started his work as an act of love that extends into void,

but his work, neither delivered nor destroyed,

he always succumbs from a pain, deep and unknown to mankind,

in search for a woman who was once invariably preoccupied in his mind,

in the hunt, he found him self in a presumed to be dead state,

always assumed to have nothing in his plate, for if its his written fate,

for once if he lashes out, blurting out everything that runs and ruins his mind,

even the greek gods can't decipher everything he just whined,

his poems were never for any recognition nor for any fame,

it is his brain, mind, heart, soul and whatever you can name,

all of them working together to bawl out,

but never his through his voice but always his words, his words of painful doubt,

he never seems to catch a wiff of sleep,

his memories still haunt him while asleep,

he can neither weep nor wimper,

for the sociatal values that did not pamper,

By Prasheel Mathray