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On a mirage, I go gazing
It seems am evanescing
Into shadows of myself
Playing sad songs of faulty clef

I heard you mock my empty belly
Not all flowers bloom that early
Night and day, both can not be on
At same time, hence they take turns

Keep your polishes to yourself
I have accepted I am the shelf
Which termites have so devoured
An also-ran, am not favored

But in all gains, there is a pain
And when I fail now and again
Let’s just say, my success delays
Fruits shall come out from my decay.

Better a small egg today
Than a fat hen tomorrow

Come see the rotten seed
Once bone dried and decayed

With no snow chance in hell
Now better and sprouting.

Come see the rotten seed
No one ever wished well

With problems aid, hope aided;
Now the best look of things

Better a mouse in the pot
Than no fried chicken at all.

There is a force in all motions
All glow has an inspiration
I know a Poet who was so good
He loved to express all he could

People loved him until one day
It seems deserts ate up the bay.
In pains he wrote but flames burnt it
In tears he wrote dryness washed it

In the shadow for many years;
His readers protested, others jeered
Demanding eggs from a dead hen
So he laid down stretching his pen

Right in front of an empty sheet
Of pains and tears in fears and doubts
But not until he had his breath
Taken away; well not by death

But at first sight, his feet got swept
Ignoring bounds doubts disappeared
A star was born with energy that
Made him to write poems once again.