I

A poet is a failed attempt,
At fathoming the depth of his own creations.

II

A poet is a river, striving to flow,
As fast as it once used to,
But now it's heavy load of debris of emotions,
Has made it a stagnant, dust-laiden water.

III

A poet is a dead, out-dated calendar,
Stuck in the winter month of December,
Left to rot in the forgotten piles of years.

IV

A poet is a dimmed star on earth,
Too often brushed off,
As a speck of dust.

V

A poet is the gravest piano key,
Not touched often,
By the gentle fingers of the player.

VI

A poet is a lost shoe,
Once so vital, now it tosses,
Untill it is buried in the earth,
With neither a funeral nor a flower.

VII
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