Monday, May 5, 2008

A poets life


My first poetry was a innocent smile,
While learning to stand beside my mother's lap.
Capturing scattered beauty of nature in my soul,
Lost in transition were mine early days.

Romancing Keats and whispering Shelley,
That was my teen ,yesterday.
Quoting Wilde & murmuring Dylan
A poet was nourishing in me day by day.

I am not a poet of the fall or spring,
Neither pursuit a big achiever's dream.
Just wanna be happy man with the shirts,
This will be me as a poem down the years.

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