Rhyme's Crime

 

Aah, the era of hard talk!

Each and everybody vies for

The worldly stretch across the pages,

Depict which paged humanity;

Words, only words, queuing

Along the social misdeeds,

Still, each counts for millions!

Alas! The soft talk;

The words which lit up

Invisible illumination over superficiality,

The language which only

A flower can sense,

So few words!

Still, saying the epic tale

Of humanity's glory,

But, they fetch nothing.

Perhaps, the soft talkers have

The sixth sense,

Enables which the common five

To mix up and come out

As an apostle of reality,

Understands which nobody.

 

Why then a bard should create a rhyme,

If all dump it as an economic crime?