Thursday, March 24, 2016

How Painful, It Is to Love

How Painful, It is to Love
A worker toils the whole day for making their two ends meet
At the end of the day
Body exhausted, flowed out all the sweat
Finds none to see the work and pay
Goes back home empty handed, nothing to say
To their empty belly, adds few sips of water
Which hurts, rather than eliminating the hunger
You may say 'sorry' to them and laugh out the matter
But it hurts me, leaving me scatter
For I know how much painful it is
For a lamp to burn waiting without hope fuel
Like trying to satisfy the hunger with water cruel
Because I am the worker who toiled
Craving in the dark night, how I coiled!
A poet dries up their blood shedding tears
Whole night to empower poetic words, evading fears
Morning arrives with full composition of morrow
Finds the World too lusty to listen to the poem of sorrow
What to do of the poem, and the emotions expressed
Composition valueless today, in future would it be assessed
The words made of blood bite them back, like dogs hound
You may say 'sorry' to them, and laugh the matter out
But it hurts me like spreading darkness, switching off light
For I know how painful it is to write the whole night
And find the World illiterate to the poetic words tried
Because I am the Poet who composed
Reverberating words, dark night, how I silently cried!
A lover waits for their beloved
Whole night feeling bluffed
Brute Sun arises with emptiness all around
Disappears the hope of arrival of the beloved
Wonders why they are there, what may be their role
Weeps in loneliness, none to tap shoulder to console
Lover's life lost in waiting, not even a shout
You may say 'sorry' to them, and laugh the matter out
But it hurts me like taking away somebody's birtright
For I know how painful it is to wait for the whole night
And find the beloved having nothing to realize
Because I am the lover who waited
Streaming tears, blank life, how I capsize!


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