Ravindra Kumar (02 July 1951 / India)
The Real Hero
Well setting hair as an impressive style,
Wearing fancy beautiful high price clothe;
Having placed in pocket one hand futile
If stands at railway joining the booth;
And pose alike any Hollywood fame,
No one, give him hero a name.
Among rejoicing load puffing voice of puppet,
Or pleasing with nymph ride vehicle on mead,
Or cultivating courtesy time poor gratuity remit
Or landing to observe sermon urge admit heed,
Perhaps, look he bright man of noble race,
Yet ne'er could bliss that heroic trace.
Certainly, his appearance can change a happy mood
His eyes are probably seen deep exhausted,
His face mark pale fade glory depute,
His dresses may have dust stamp outdated...
His desperate must make him solitude admirer,
His proclaim shall enough to speed thy temper,
His talk will turn meaning absolute raise topic,
Where he begins little speak awhile,
His sight is above all men meditative,
An arduous to find out what he profile,
He feels suffocation annoyed from riotous crowd,
Life-long swell healthy goal even adversity surround.
One who doesn't accustom the lazier rite,
Whose behavior force us to terminate total plight.
Whose entice retain in only his queer exploit
Whose manner compel each weight on earnest bright.
He who sublimate mind, seek through progressive grand,
Exhilarated by calling.'The Real Hero' of land.
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Comments about this poem (In Esteem To The New World by Ravindra Kumar )
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