Well, this is the 100th post. So, this is special. And i would like to thank each and every one of you for the kind support and generous appreciation. This has been amazing.
So, this poem follows my own original form, which i call ‘Sapt-niner‘. It contains 5 lined verses with an experimental syllable pattern of 9-7-9-7-9. The number of verses should be 9 or 7, preferably, but it must have a 9 syllabled conclusion. Also, just for this particular poem, the first letter of each verse spells my name. Although, i had reserved this form for when the follower count would cross the 500 mark. But, well, one thing at a time. This seems more appropriate for the 100th post. Enjoy!
a poem by pushkar prabhat
Pushing through enforced necessities
just to be judged on scales, tipped.
inherited duties, and courage:
infected with empathy;
ensured drowning of the flying wings.
Under the protection of bruised wings,
against winds of destiny
hoping to carry the sun unharmed
un-wet and burning bright still,
until the weighing debt on soul, lifts.
Surviving the gifts of measured breaths;
applauding the illest fates;
prizing the blames and sins of efforts
foiled by will and wills of fate;
it’s hope, my hope that has scarred the most.
Honor, insufficient, a lie sold.
indifferent, stunted, proud
lenders of happiness compensates
with smothered identities
violated minds and defiled souls.
Knowing, kills every reality
impoverishes the mind,
destroys ignorance, stupidity;
dilemma seizes: break out or in.
Apparently, revolts are set up;
enslavement freely endorsed,
and reason invites consequences.
every price is too high if
sanity be the first to escape.
Remember, remember to fly high,
if ever this nightmare ends.
it’s a hell lot of work, just to reach
that, earned disappointing end.
and choking every will to get by,
the fact: it’s so easy, to just die.
Hope you enjoyed this special and original serving of the evergreen art of poetry.
Please leave comments……..
i will be back!