THE PHENOMENA

The feeling,
Of holding one's head up for a flag of all free;
Wailing like horns across the Horn of Africa,
To the Soyinka of Africa!
Don John of Austria
Is riding to the sea

Poets are on their kneels -
Holding the hilt of their weapon,
Mightier than swords, they say.
Because, his conquer and to save
With his pen has changed,
To discouragement and fear.

This is the tale of the man — poet;
Who heard a word in the night, while sleeping
And in the midday, while walking
Or in the morning while taking bath.
And decide to show the path of righteousness
To this cave, we called the world.

A poet's lip was his pen.
An angry man was he;
The blood beats in his ear,
The blood ran hot his head
And that's the feeling -
While a poet trying to give their best
To change this world.

All they crave for is being minded -
For people to read their pieces as a book of yore,
And the runes, that were written of old
On papers, under the moor.
Real poets are to be cleansed,
For they're one of the pillars that promote peace in the universe.