O! look ,there’s the real poet
who pulled out his heart
adorned it with
“the blows of ruthless love”
the mute feelings unearthed from gravels
slide as drops across the scar
creating a magical aura
in between the theme.
The silken imagery of fabulous scenes
diced with stupefying verses
dipped in the blood ink.
Oh! He rolled out his soul
on the streets and alleys
where once lived his wife to be
in the deserted palaces
and through the lanes of slum
wanders he , frantically.
Wondrously he conversed with the birds
Kissed the floating clouds
flowers danced to his tunes
in broad daylight , he fears
Under the starlit sky, he wanders
Alone he undertakes the journey
for miles in deep slumber
and in his solitude .
Look ! Oh! There’s the real poet
His soul dripping with blood and love
resented by the world
he now
is named lunatic
psychic he is referred to
on the path of destiny.
soumyav 
‘The Real Poet’ adequately reflects you in a real order and that is how I take it. Wish such a reflection to blossom further.
Thank you Sir for your ever encouraging words
left me speechless… exquisiste
exquisite*
Thanks Amit
Iam humbly touched by your compliment.
A passionate poet knows no bound, a wanderer and lunatic to the world coz the soul speaks thousand words. This is so beautiful:)
Wow, this is wonderful, Soumyav, and a vivid description of the life of a poet. 🙂
Thank you so much Scott. I humbled that you loved the piece.