Oh! How far to go, in that yearning’s quest
That’s worthy of, timeless epic
Why be sold-out, to a wordy fest
Better be a poet, prose-cynic!
Where the bounds to, impressions diminish
Why chase a thought, to those frontiers
Can count of words, ever distinguish
Short Daffodils’, from long King Lears!
Where is the art, in prolonging
A bookworm’s, darling drudgery
Why value not, a bard’s longing
For a prolix, pompous perjury!
Ahem! All done, with the exposé
Of naked truths, of the prosy kinds
Now I do swear, skeptics daresay
“Why Poesy Blooms In Lazy Minds”!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra