Good news… I got more than I anticipated about the poem “The Man And The Poet” wooo hooo thanks a lot my readers, fans, relatives for the support. Bad news.. the following poem hehehe Written from a thought that originated from what I said in the blog of a girl. This is what I said, “I am not obsessed with you or anyone, I am not even obsessed with myself. I don’t care about material life at all”. That gave me a thought what does people care about these days. From what I have seen and heard, I know most of the young people don’t care about anything. Those thoughts made me write this poem. Now to my readers I will make this clear I have nothing to hide from my side. The way I am is something most of you are definitely not used to. I am very emotional and extremely passionate. Because of that if I am friendly I will shower you with praises and do whatever I can to make you feel good. This can be seen or interpreted by many as obsession. On the contrary if you become an enemy of me, there used to be a time when my short temper either beat them up or at least leave a curse. That also can be seen as an obsession. Now a days I learned not to be short tempered anymore. This is not the first time anyone told that I have OCD issues. This happened many times before. I was called many names, my lifestyle was defined in many ways by many, many people. They are right to an extend and wrong to a greater extend. The one thing none ever understood is the fact that I am like one of those young folks out there. I don’t really care about anything in material. I am a Sufi. If you don’t know what is a Sufi, google it. You will know. All this through my five sense I feel are just clothes I one day will leave and then in eternity will feel the love of God. The romance and love I can give to a girl is yet another pretty cloth. That’s it.
Enjoy the poem.
The Era Given To Me.
The pencil on the tip of the fingers rolled,
As mind through countless folders inside passed,
The details of events so sparsely laid,
Ah’ faces never forgotten,
Memories recorded in association of things felt.
Modern day lifestyles cunning fought,
With yesteryears passion filled life,
Oh’ none cared about what is lost,
The generation sprouting unable to dream.
Decades it will take for a tree to grow,
Couple of hours to cut it down,
The fruit start to rot the moment it leaves,
The fruit starts to rot the more on the tree it stays.
Freedom early or late Oh’ rot and stink it will,
Rot and stink it will.
Modern day to yesteryears will pass,
But to what memories will associate I know not,
Ah’ the phantoms of generations like zombies will wander,
With their sense with lead sealed,
Ah’ many great minds lost in the arrogance of the liberty lady,
Oh’ to what memories that will associate I know not.
A simple mind, a humble mind always will smile,
A good smile, wonderful smile will gain one smile in return.
There ends my association with the era given to me.
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