Not Poetical

Being not poetical, how pitiful it is,
Sometimes I sit somewhere and watch the
Slew of mass flowing over dusty street
And a strange thought dawns in my mind
How poetical these rushing souls actually are?
Perhaps I know these bundling mass
And their stony minds,
Being hardened enough by concreted realities
Or consciously unmindful of aesthetic flavor,
Which they ignore as blind passersby.
O the rusty souls draped in shining attires
And gorgeous enough, unread and ignore
About lyrical wonders of heavenly tune.
I know that knowledge brought up us with
Nursing sympathy.
How come they exist without rhymes and
Rhythms? How come they sail unfriendly world
With metallic float:a solid waste of souls.
O running pages of rhymes millions,
Let unfurl and unfold your diamond heart apart,
Before restless souls, lit senses and set their goals

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Shuvo Chakraborty

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lecturer and advocate in university and incometax tribunal. an english poet and diehard follower of john keats
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