A Poet At Heart

A Poet At Heart long poem

Uploaded by Illahi

They say poetry doesn’t pay ,
A hobby for slacker’s bay ,
Frost projected it as condition ,
Far from being called ‘ real profession’ .

Advised to bring out the writer ,
Write pages, words ,
Ensure some monetary return.

Dug the depth ,
yet it seems all abrupt ,
A heavy burden on my chest .
A simple sentence says it all
Why then emotions are stretched ,
written all about it ,
Romance, Fiction, Thrill
Yet not felt ,
To carry forward a legacy
Literary authors left .

Imposed categories,
A novelist , An author , A columnist ,
If you sell you dwell ,
Is the guru mantra ,
In this hunger game for success.

Writing , an expression of heart ,
covered path from letters to mails ,
Simply lost its essence, Nowadays in this trail ,
No connect felt between author and a reader,
Just pages published
To sell , sell and sell .

Smell of fresh words with ink,
Aaaaaah ! I remember ,
What it used to be .
Give me a dejected hollow stare,
A mere tag line replaces the scene ,
‘We write , you feel ‘.

I possess a mind of a ordinary man,
Until claimed extra ordinary ,
Just laugh at such doings .
Big money , fat pay checks, commissions,
All these figures,
Go beyond my understanding .

An owner of a psychotic mind ,
Book and pen ,
My worldly treasure
A distant being from competitive race,
Non social junkie ,
An out of work poet .
With some tales to narrate ,
For free or to be paid for,
Left to audience taste .
Satisfied as creative spree,
I roam on my will ,
One day everyone has to leave this world,
I wish to as a free spirit .

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