If lonely I less feel though left alone,
It is my pensive pen that helps me brood,
An unknown Muse pushing it paper prone
In sole shelter of my soul’s solitude.
In life’s cacophony hard ‘tis to dream,
So, a brooding breast chews on a bare bone,
Ruminating life’s cud to a fine cream
That rises a poet’s when left alone.
And yet, when hard it is either to do,
Quiet churning getting lost in life’s din,
There is a window of an alter view,
Man returns to life whence he did begin.
Child once again yon he soars to create—
Solitude but poems can procreate.
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- Sonnets | 10.09.07 |
Aniruddha Pathak
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lonely-to-create/
