Whispers Of Night
There's no such thing
as stroke of genius
on an empty piece of paper,
a poet named after
but I was there when
I listened; all the words,
the tears, the thoughts
the sparkle of his mind
and his smile's so angelic
those soft lips called my
my 'love', my ' life', my 'death'
love turned him into poet!
eagerly, he chanted
the poem of his heart,
in love, in grief..
he tasted the essence of it!
there's no other certainty
of reacing his destiny..
because, his poetry is here
and I'm already gone!
stop telling me that I'm the one
I'm dead and you're..human!
Whispers Of Night's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Human! by Whispers Of Night )
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- LOVE, DRASHI SHAH
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(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- Heather Burns
(3rd April 19sixty)
(17 June 1867 – 2 September 1922)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)