A Poet’s Saga

I thought I could never get my poem done

Without adding some sanguine fun,

Till I came across great poets, masters by birth

Who wrote soulful verses, sometimes devoid of mirth.


The lasting impressions intensified into a lump in my throat

I wished I belonged to that era, sailing in the same boat.

I grappled around with poems of Keats and Yeats,

But was heartbroken I couldn’t write that neat.


In an anguished state, my writing overflowed,

Till my ink went dry and the night lamps glowed.

My passion spent, I looked at my creation

Bestowed with praise and worthy appreciation


The beginning of a pure verse is a lovesick soul

It breaks impregnable barriers and grows manifold.

Rhyme scheme-aabb     The poem is composed of  three quatrains and a couplet.

We don’t spam!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.