All the different arts in the world stand out in their unique ways & artists have mesmerised people since ages. This poem is a toast to all the word artists and a glimpse of what I have experienced since I started to pen down my thoughts.
He didn’t have to travel too far,
His imagination took him to places..
He didn’t have to scream to make people cry,
His soulful words wrenched their hearts..
He didn’t always compliment someone formally,
For his rhymes made ’em smile seamlessly..
He didn’t always shout to be heard,
His thoughts painted his agony as true as it could be..
He dared to write & to be criticised,
For then he’d know, pen could really be mightier than a sword..
He couldn’t make handcrafted, artistic gifts,
Nor could he draw those amazing stills,
Or design some jaw-dropping structures,
All he could do was weave some words together & strike chords with the readers..
He’d paint reality as vivid as a rainbow,
And represent fiction good enough to make some hearts beat slow..
He was shy to come up with party moves,
And to sing a song to light up the evening,
But he’d always raise a toast,
Or build the aura with his own magic of words..
He was as tough as he was delicate,
Shy as well as brave,
At times purely blunt or suddenly a romantic chap..
Whenever he found himself on his own,
His passion inspired him to play with words & go airborne..
With his first poem something new had begun,
Destiny smiled upon him and a writer was born.!
– Chinmay Bapat
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