( 03) Literary Symbiosis
When I avidly read Shakespeare, recited Chaucer,
Sitting in my tiny room in a cosy corner,
I was prone to read more and more of Classics,
delighted ,delving deep into the literary symbiosis,
I repeated the numbers of Keats, Byron, Shelley and
Wordsworth, quoted Jane Austen and Scott and Dickens,
wondered if it was really worth to exist,
in this world devoid of any worth:
Pope as usual was stringent and sarcastic,
allowing Swift to fly adamant, autocratic,
if Auden augmented on degeneracy,
Ezra Pound and Eliot elongated on delinquency,
Lawrence one day lectured on mother-son love,
when humanity is devoid of basic love,
I hurriedly came out of my room,
drawn, distracted by the noisy Zoom,
witnessed arson and looting in a boom,
street-brawl and dowry-death.
introspected why on earth,
I was born to suffer this trash?
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