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Friday, 3 April 2015

Poem on Pain

I'm not a tale teller
Nor a book-seller
So I utter truth
About the meller
Of the heart seller—
He wandered with
Heart in hand
Like an insane
From
Town to town
In pursuit of rad patron—
But nobody was
In readiness to accept it
He proffered free
They published it
Unworthy
So, it had stains
And cracks inside!
He flamed in pains
And despair for years
And begged  God
For all repairs
After years of meditation
God granted him
The holy pen
And here he is
Penning
The "poem On pain"

©Bhat Naieem
All Rights Reserved

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