A Poet Flower

Over the boundary inside this continent There lived a poet where our holy lands meet I did not see her picture yet I am led to imagine By reading out her lovely executed poems That she must be very smart and unbelievably cute She has a knack to do a postmortem upon the poems Written by others by cutting and tearing apart And leaves a bulky comment like a person very erudite I believe I can also bisect trisect a poem easily And bring its intrinsic beauty inside out But I told her not to do that anymore in a voice very polite For doing so she would be a poet friend commentator Or a respected critique or a reputed doctor But if she writes fewer poems she will never be famous poet. My advice, I know, always bear fruits And out of it others gain enormous benefit But it comes back like a boomerang And bellow the hit me very hard And it is not for the first time that this happens like this way Many times I experienced like this and run in losses Yet I advise friends even after cutting my nose This is my kind heart-ed nature and habits And keep doing this spreading milk of good will and generosity She sensed it as she is too intelligent And quickly hid somewhere I launch a thorough search In shrubs, herbs and bushes yet I do not know her whereabouts She must be a flower now Bud she was when we met in summer, Now it is spring So I suppose somewhere For someone else she remains lying bloomed