A Poet and the Poesy

Origin is divine with traits of Nature

Harmony it desires, friend it adores

Doubly blessed, it serves the creatures

And wears a band of their holy creator.

But almost its benediction, on a coerce follower

Who performs its drill with painful worshipping

How an ease obtained by this impassioned follower?

As he prolongs his skill, mid violent gossiping.

Then unfriendly missives, punched on his notes

Gape at him, like a burning scar

Yet scared still, the best he quotes

And tries to shove, his acts afar.

For the common dogma lives in him

Prompts him ever, for the best to come

And much he strains, to answer to win

Now poesy to him, a need become

Its poesy all poesy! Shapes his art

Mere ‘store of joy’, unfolds his poesy

And several bearings aids him to start

‘A dialogue of contentment’, spells his poesy.

The sweet repose mid a hectic run

As a  pause betwixt two spirited beats

Lets endure our strife in rhythmic fun

Grants ease to a victor, acquires his feat.

Its an order of living, dedicatedly rung ‘

A fun some times, for musing throngs

It serves a lesson to teeming young

And adorers it saves, from earthly wrongs.

Our counsel in adversity, real friend of us

As misery besets mildly it protests 

Lays consecrated plans, to debate and discuss

Promptings it gives when worry upsets.

Its sweet silent indulgence, that transmits

Through the weakest nerves of frail humanity

How many! Ways of life? It unfolds, emits

As a master paints his creativity.

Of high dogma, simple tone

Its prudent note, to men distressed

For illusive longings, they are prone

Keep the ‘supreme content’ deep suppressed

‘The content intimately imbued in them’

But the avarice calls ‘acquire and avail’ –

- The petty games, they know not when

- Their peace disordered, ignorant! They wail

Then mid dim darkness, dizzily bound

Their false visions, fail to catch

‘The Savior figure’ drawn around

That this faultless magic, softly sketch.

With keen surveillance kindly eyes

It scans the faults of erring men

Like a tender mother soon replies

To their muddling queries, vaguely then.

At its many apprises, wise man wakes

That fools rebuff as lay man’s voice

For instructs the poesy, amends and makes

Our deprivation, too minor concise

Its poesy, poesy! All the way

From old abandoned to modern young

With similar passions similar sway

‘A mending tune‘, echoed, sung.        

 

This poem relates the satisfaction a poet gets in composing and afterwards how he feels when he is not acknowledged. The poem also highlights the significance and value of the poetry. How much has this art being serving the humanity for long.