The Poet and The Lark

The passionate poet sat in his study dark
Deaf to the sounds of the lilting notes of the lark.
With a DO NOT DISTURB board he sat
Hunched
Feverishly writing.

Outside, the lark sang and sang with a passion intense
“Do not disturb me”, the poet said, trying to drill sense
Into the lark, serenading nature with his happy song.
“Let me script a song of peace”, pleaded he in a voice strong
Drawing the curtains tight.

The poet sat hunched
Feverishly writing.
Pouring words on paper
Fiery
Flaming
Fuming.

Outside his study
The slow, cadences of the lark
Soon became a soothing storm
Enough to turn a cynic into a die-hard romantic.
The lark was euphoric
That his song had sublimated
Into Peace.

Ardour increased, Forehead creased
The poet poured peace on pieces of paper
Fiery
Flaming
Fuming.
Outside his curtained study , the lark sang on
And on

8 thoughts on “The Poet and The Lark

  1. VijayNair

    Shelley’s skylark sang in ” profuse strains of unpremeditated art ” and it’s song was ” better than all the treasures/ that in books are found.”Santosh’s lark’s song has ”sublimated into Peace”– a peace the poet will never be able to convey through ” pieces of paper.”The lark’s song is an instance of ”unpremeditated art ”–it is a heartfelt outpouring,and. hence, genuine.Another lovely poem by Santosh.

    Reply
  2. kumaara sukeja

    Her spontaneity lifts her verses to lofty heights consistently carving out a niche among poets with special talents.

    Reply

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