Sunday, November 13, 2011

The Youth of My Poetry

The youth of my poetry is lost
Despairing the love so surreal.
The art of my existence is lost
Designing the success so elusive.

I have never understood the nature's beauty-
Dripping pearls from morning leaves.
I have never heard the rivers' song
Singing its melody into sea.

I have only seen the people
Rushing for fool's gold of illusion.
I have only heard of human groans
that talk of selfish motive and actions.

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