My poems dedicated to father and evening walk

Three years ago I faced stress

Which further cause me to depress

To encounter this recess

My evening walk is  in progress.

One day while walking on the turf

I suddenly got an idea of writing in verse

Which could be expressed in terse

Of my day to day curse.

Now  thanks to this curse

Which plays a vital role  my fortune to reverse,

I don’t know whether I could have written in verse

If I were not walking on the turf.

My first poem is set in rhyme

It is on the subject of ‘The prime’

I think it is well in time

Before I would end my hymn.

Though poetry is in my blood

Flowing from father’s flood

Lisping in numbers is such a stream

I used to consider it utopian dream.

My father writes in mother tongue

Which provides profuse oxygen to his lung

That gives him reason to survive

And keeps him kicking and alive.

I used to hear my father with full passion

Which caused me to think with impassion

Whether I would be able to write in this fashion

Was my childhood infatuation.

But now I divine my dream comes true

Written in black and blue

I don’t know what others think;

It’s my life-blood in ink.

Whatever I think I write

Sitting in the corner tight

I don’t know what will be my plight

While my wings are on flight.

(By: Vivekanand Jha)

Poet and Research Scholar

http://www.v-jha.blogspot.com