A LONELY POET
He drowns in the sea of his own solitude,
Sometimes in mirth and many times in pensive mood,
Only the loud noise of his soul to intrude,
He is a willing loner among unfeeling multitude.
People say he has lots of attitude,
They brand him as a person rude,
But he chews up all insults like sumptuous food,
He just stares and return to brood.
He feels secure to express in verses and rhymes,
Free to think only in his locked away times,
In silence he composes a beautiful symphony,
In the comfort of solitude he finds himself in harmony.
He lives inside himself in his world of his cocoon,
But his thoughts lift him high to touch the far off moon,
A ghost he is, the eyes do not even care to look,
But he is the author of many wonderful books.