Of An Anonymous Priest

Image by Chih-Hsing , Shen via Flickr

Not so long back somewhere in a country nice and new

An anonymous poet published his masterpieces few

He would write poems that would make people cry

Hardly any humour not even sarcastic, mocking or dry

Sailors would set on explorations to be devoured by sea

Cruel kings would capture men to never set them free

Investors at the bourses would lose their savings of life

And the lives of honest men be full of struggle and strife

Even love stories would end sadly with hero losing out at last

as heroine would decline marriage sighting difference in caste

All poems would showcase triumph of evil on good

Cowards making merry while the brave begging for food

I met that poet on a rainy night last week

I asked him why his outlook on life was so bleak

“Life”, said he, “my friend in the term short is unfair for sure”

“But things smoothen out in the long term, time is only cure”

“My outlook in my poems is bleak for a reason deep,

Poems are not like the dreams that you see in sleep

Dreams still tend to come true while poems don’t any more

Let poetry trap all grief while we bask in happiness galore

Let poetry trap all grief while we bask in happiness galore”

Repeating the last line he faded out in dark

But his words have left in my mind a mark

How I wish I could go back now and ask him his name at least

But ‘what’s there in the name after all’ let’s just call him priest!

- Anonymous Priest