Ballade on Poets of Poetry Site
Many a pen writes and retreats,
Some like politicians play game,
Or loiter in lit’rary streets
To return just as they once came,
Their love for pen little bit lame,
And greed for name and fame sky high,
A mix that makes muse of pen maim—
They that for poems live nor die.
Shelley-like some write in long sheets
‘Aloft the sky in words of flame’,
Some think them as modern day’s Keats,
Some think, theirs and Brown’s styles as same,
All aim t’be in Arcadia’s frame,
That their fame would one day soar high,
Yet, all this proves too tall an aim
To those that for pen live nor die.
So then, few can kiss ideal feats,
Nor tall regions in far stars claim,
And face total ruins and defeats
And fail to walk new paths to fame,
Kiss fame, nor beat Destiny’s game,
Subduing pride with a smile wry,
They get to know no such fame dame—
That for pen live nor ever die.
Envoi
Yet, inscribe still beneath their name,
Pen name and pose— a far cry
From past, and disappear as came—
Those that for pen live nor yet die.
___________________________________
Ballade |11.03.2024| poets, poetry
Poet’s note: In tribute to Sir John Squire. The Ballade rhyme scheme: ababbcbC/ababbcbC/ababbcbC/bcbC
Copyright ©
Aniruddha Pathak
|