The Poet's Pride Poem by Laxman Rao

The pride of a poet is something I know;
As a peacock, that proudly fans its feathers
Personifying its perfect ways of dancing,
As the poet lost in its bliss-while reciting.

A poem is a crystal prism; but by the sight
Of a reader, it radiates the vibrant vibgyor
That changes its color & hue; with the fall of light,
It's the gist that changes & glorifies to the core.

Ye you… the critic, your wishes are not my commands
I'm a creator by the choice of my foresight
And a firsthand critic of my own hindsight
Etching the words & verses by my creative wand

You may be a genius in your own stride
While, not a fool I'm-ready to lose my pride.