My nib just broke – I don’t know how?
It made me cry, a friendly bow.
Who knows what all it had to write,
But being my Sword – I lost a fight.
See he is bleeding – all in blue,
And still I am, without a clue.
For every wasted drop, his blood,
Should been a clink, a clatter – a Word.
Here lies my (s)word all clad in white,
And asks for fame in ink, so polite.
I want to weep, but have no ink,
For lies my friend, no nib – no clink.
With you, I won, I lost, I tied,
Both words and wars – garland of Pride.
Oh Death! Do wait, I have a pact,
A drop, my blood – his blood, please accept!!
Oh my Excalibur! – come back, fight back again,
Unlike your kins, who die for Worldly gains.
Don’t leave your friend in a battle, so cruel,
For I will die without your fuel.
Lie here our dreams – all shattered, all dry,
But for you and only you I’ll try.
For words are Immortal, nibs may blow,
No, Oblivion won’t touch you – a poet’s vow.
Written by Naman Gupta, Core Group Member of Vox Populi.
