Plight Or Pleasure ?
Writes he every word, in joy and in painLest his very thoughts become his bane
To appease the storm within and keep his sane
Ulterior pretense helps not self to feign
The ensemble of his reflections
Woven in a maze of puns and expressions
With prose and poetry he stuns
Evasive his manner, reclusive, company he shuns
Flows the thought, swifter than steeds
Slower than naught, his quill leads
Bereft of words, volumes he reads
Jewels he finds, amongst the weeds
Squalid, squeamish, staid and satire
Entwines he plots, plunging in mire
Fantasy to horror, every genre, he will sire
Untiring he toils, for his needs are dire
Outlandish to platitudinous, esoteric to aesthetic
Meddles he in affairs, plebeian and eclectic
Alliteration, hyperbole, exaggeration rhythmic
Conceal and render, a splendor intrinsic
Construed together are words trivial
Rendered meaningful are phrases inconsequential
Such is the beauty and power textual
The confines of fiction stretch to tickle the real
posted by Swetank Gupta @ 12:25 pm
1 Comments:
hi..thanks for visiting my blog i will keep visiting ur blog simply because i think your poetry is just too good
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