The Poet Has Nothing To Be Proud Of
What can the poet do it?
By writing a few poems, one should not feel it at all,
One knows it all
As a caged parrot too keeps saying,
If it is taught.
If one thinks that a poet can only experience
Then one is mistaken,
The same emotion, the same feeling
Are in us in the same intensity.
The poet arranges and re-arranges the words,
Juggles with not the balls but with the words,
One cap turning into four
And four into one.
I do not think it that I have something specific
In me to enlighten and highlight,
I keep learnign from others all the time,
Somes the notes prepared hastily,
Sometimes getting out with the half-said and half-jotted stuffs.
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