supratik sinha

The Best Poem Of supratik sinha

Ode To Insignificance

Behold objects, deprived of attention
To you, I owe my inspiration
The beauty, hidden in insignificance
Like a mother by her child, sacrosanct in her presence
Verdure sprouting with zeal, from the confines of soil
A canvas to future war and turmoil
Pride of mother earth, lush young greenery
Nourished by raindrops and sunshine,
Resemblance to an angel divine.
But after ageing starts, dryads, a different scenery

Behold objects, deprived of attention
To you, I owe my inspiration
The beauty, hidden in insignificance
Like the almighty, in an act of benevolence
The multitudes of leaves, yellow and pale
Unnoticed they float, a ship of memories set sail
United they once fluttered
On the branches of an old tree
Unchained from shackles, set free
Around the globe, indistinctly scattered

Behold objects, deprived of attention
To you, I owe my inspiration
The beauty, hidden in insignificance
Like the cries of an infant, divine in innocence
Falling througe fingers, tiny grains of sand
Bearers of tales, from an unseen land
shaped by the sword of time, eroding the nascent rocks
A crowd of particles, engaged in an endless race
Undestined nomads, roaming at great pace
Across places diverse, from the palace to the docks

Behold objects, deprived of attention
To you, I owe my inspiration
The beauty, hidden in insignificance
Like the doomed Endymon and Selene, a passion in magnificience
An oyster, silent in hypnotic rhyme
Historians to an ancient time
Bonded in matrimony, a pearl precious, and an unimportant oyster,
Their union, victim of desires selfish, rendered lifeless
By a society, clinging to orthodox, soul less
As the hollow oysters, 'their' hearts, an empty poster


Behold objects, deprived of attention
To you, I owe my inspiration
The beauty, hidden in insignificance
Like the rays of Apollo, shining with sublime brilliance
Solacing on a taro leaf, a droplet of dew
Hoping for a spring new
Widowed by clouds achromatic
Sheathed by the grandeur, souls trapped in isolation
After the witching hour, a picture of refreshing sensation,
Of a droplet solitary, anecdotic

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