“ART Of ARTS”
Let the poetry be pristine
And untouched by any ‘art’
As itself is the ‘art of arts’,
Quintessential form of heart.
Art is another form of artificiality:
Alias of adulteration.
Let it sustain to express
The freedom of mind without fear
Not to be bound with
Superstition, rules and regulation
Let her remain savage as
Wild flowers, not to ornate
With flowery language or
Burdened with pedantic knowledge
Just like flowers bloom
To spread fragrance ,
Let her spring the message of
Truth, beauty and goodness.
But who is there in near future
to worry about the “art of poetry?”
In this digital age, as AI is ready
To step in the literary garden
Who will appeal or protect I
In custody the “Art” of poetry ?
If the ‘App’ in brain produces
Poems of love, loss, laughter
From the AI factory,
To replace the Eden of literature!
Who cares for creativity?
What future for ‘imagination’ ?
Yes, graveyard is ready,
Coffin is waiting ………
What epithet will be chosen
To inscribe on the tombstone ?........
*”Step softly, a dream lies here!”
or,
* ”The best is yet to come !”.
Of course , that epithet
Also has to be borrowed
From frozen cemetery or factory!
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