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Alas, A Bard’s a Bruised Reed!

They make me mad- some people, known/ unknown;
They make me sad- their wiliness / ego;
They’re after money’s comfort on this earth!
Sense/ common-sense are things that’re a dearth.

They know how poets have suffered in life!
They know how poets land in utter strife!
They stay unmoved/ inert- husband or wife:
They wound my heart with words akin a knife.

Oh how I wish I should be, never me!
Oh how I wish I were akin to them;
Yet, I can’t simply change: I’m thus destined;
To Poesy must Bards always well bind.

Poetry isn’t something that pays at once;
It isn’t something that gives plenty returns;
A Poet seeks the truth without/ within;
And Truth is God: God abhors only sin!

Being like earthlings is not always right;
The destiny of world, poets do fight;
Most Bards cannot be dishonest, may be;
Their minds are fixed to Eternity.

And if they change, could they God realize?
Good Bards prefer to be always soul-wise;
And like a phoenix die, again arise;
And show the world to be heavenly-wise!

Oh, one can’t take me for an easy ride;
I can’t my emotions and passions hide;
I can’t live on with ego great and pride;
My thoughts to be aright, God helps decide.

The superfluous from the thing that’s deep;
The virtual/ surreal from real;
The transient from what is permanent;
God help me to know and my soul to keep.

Alas, a Poet is a bruised reed!
His works on earth are immortal indeed;
His heart of love is uniquely his creed;
His mind wants peace and never yearns for greed!
Alas, a Bard’s a bruised reed!

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