No poet, it is said, can craft in perfect verse
By endeavoring, a poem as lovely as a tree
For his attempts, the blessed tree is none the worse–
It can simply augment its own beauty for free !
In care, minding its charm is not a curse !
But our pugnacious poet is a selfie- styled bard—
Success is ever ensured only by trying hard…
So, he permutated and juggled around the word;
Rotated, rolled over in combinations literally unheard
For, he was convinced he was the muse’s favorite ward !
The munificent tree gently holds on to its breezy charm
Knowing in its wisdom that the eager little man will not harm
Anyone—at best, he goes around in circles, then may tire
When tepid turns his quill’s thrust—dousing the belly-fire,
Our chastened versifier hastens under the waiting tree, to retire
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ( C.). KUMAARA SUKEJA. AUG. 2015