Ghostwriter Of The Past Poem by Anurag Talukdar

He is just a ghostwriter of the past.
These days he writes none.
He often strays into the streets,
Watching the stream of people hurrying around.
He too camouflages as one of them,
Wearing a business suit with a matching tie,
Two smartphones, as one will inevitably die.
Repeating sermons and preaching jargons,
He constantly seeks a better turf,
He constantly fights off the bell-curve.
However the itch of writing is a serious disease,
It can strike back without a warning.
So today he decides to write a few lines,
Match the rhythm and match the rhyme.
One line at a time,
One verse at a time,
Slowly finding his own trust,
For he is just a writer,
Rediscovering his past.