Mr. Stubborn…

June 20, 2015 November 27, 2018
Mr. Stubborn... ode

Photo by flazingo_photos

With a sinking heart he compiled
All the memories that are scattered behind
He resigned from his past and assign himself for the mankind
Jogging on the road of prosperity and snoop in the ways of wind
It was just the end of autumn and start of spring in his life
When he took over all his griefs and closed his whole pain file
With the gold spoon he was born and still he is Mr. stubborn

His long hair talking with the cool breeze
And his modesty appeasing him for the destiny
He is looking like a big conqueror, who gallantry won the inner war
Defeated his tearful yesterday
He himself defeated and won
With the gold spoon he was born and still he is Mr. stubborn

His journey is not about what he loses but all about what he won
He is diverse from others
Jolly man with a black beard
Just moves his wooden stick and makes everyone smile
Like a magician changes the mood of the lonely exiles

The sun shines with him and he shines with his style
With the gold spoon he was born and still he is Mr. stubborn

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

2 Comments on "Mr. Stubborn…"

Notify of
avatar
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Preeti
Member
Preeti

Stubborn to win! Inspiring, awesome, wonderful!

Reply
3 years 7 months ago
pakeeza_rizvi
Poet
pakeeza_rizvi

Thanks its your goodness that you read it 🙂

Reply
3 years 7 months ago
wpDiscuz

Stubborn

Stubborn short poem

I’ve never been very good at listening. I imagine that I resonate with a piece of you that reminds me of the same piece of me. When I come face to face with this piece. I realize that not everything

On Mr. John Milton’s Comus

On Mr. John Milton’s Comus short poem

For Lord’s exultant installation thou Singest for the performance at Ludlow, Of greatest Virtue that high Heav’n bestows On mansions virgin demoiselles doth house, That no temptation could utterly soil, No evil spirit ever durst to foil, Nor Circe’s son

With Mr. Jones (collaborations—’11)

With Mr. Jones (collaborations—11) short poem

(Line for line… tit for tat.) 1. My house is kind of small —but bigger than my kitchen And in my kitchen there’s a lamp —that’s bigger than my fist Please don’t touch the dog’s food bowl —only I touch

Mr. Bills

Mr. Bills prose poem

Last week, on the only day it rained, he hit me. Hit me so hard as I fell to the ground I asked myself will this be his last time? I saw colors, all dark shades and hues. Dark blues,

Mr. Officer

Mr. Officer short poem

I ask you to look my soul Not my color because that is a shade of my temple I beg for you to reach for my heart before it stands still For years to come after the action comes to