On Writing Poetry Poem by Ravi Kopra

The poet laureate does not tell them
with only a thousand or so words of
a foreign or native tongue in their skull
they cannot write poetry

He does not want to hurt their feelings
they may come to him with a bagful of expletives
with loaded pistols, guns or AK47 ones
to teach him a lesson

They write master pieces of their own
and litter the web to their delight
telling what love is
how desperate they are for it

What beauty is, only they can tell it
what poetry is, only they can write it
what wisdom is, only they have it
what God is, is what God is

They will tell you everything in their poetry
understand it or not, who cares
but they have heard, read, imagined it
sometime, somewhere who cares

That has touched their hearts, minds, souls
so much so they cannot contain it
their hearts burst, souls burst, minds burst
and pour forth undying love with broken hearts

Lost, lonely souls touching such souls
and mindless wisdom to enlighten the world
thus they get happy, they get Nirvana
they write poetry and litter the web

And why not?
they mend their broken hearts
they heal their wandering souls
they empty their cluttered minds

They tirelessly write poetry
day and night littering the web
in pursuit of their happiness
like it or not, who cares.