Comments Inbox
| |
About This Poem
A Crippled Singer
A pair of crutches
Holds a handsome face high
In the limelight on the stage.
Being poked by an accident,
A swarm of sorrows always
Stings him like the wasps.
The waves of sweet melody,
Gushing out of the agony,
Vibrate a thousand heads in front.
As he opens his mouth,
Melodious nectar drips
On the tips of hearts.
Though he stands on
The extreme edge of ache,
We hear only the raptures .
As miseries put out the fire,
A spark may fall somewhere
To grow into a flame later.
Faiyas M V
(A modified version)
|
|
|