The epic, of that, verbose splurge
Poised against, penury, of words
One chases, thoughts, to lexicon’s verge
Whilst the, other defies, fabled canards!
The race to beat, that ‘thousand count’
Each day, to invent, one more, maze
For whom, the brevity’s, paramount
Resents, the flaw, in prose’s fortes!
Behold, a fleeting, butterfly
Who ends, an age, in moments’ affair
Whilst, lavishes blood, a vain magpie
O’er reckless notes, of sweet despair!
Why toil across, a million miles
With a millstone, of thoughts’ hyperboles
Whilst art believes, in brevity’s guile
Prose Is For Souks, Poesy For Souls!
© 2018 Vikas Chandra