Gathering Broken Glasses By I.H.Rizvi

Rizvi will gather pick the glass pieces Lest she crosses over unknowingly, Lest they prick and bleeds it her finger, So careful of her, So emotional and sentimental. Gathering Broken Glasses, In Vain, Tender Glory On Wings, Most Delicate Things, The Might of The Wind, The Wind, Keep On Dreaming, O Man! , Smoke Is Still Rising, The poems in their trail. Rizvi is a poet of inspired moments, The valleys in blossoms, Wild and exotic fragrance coming from, Bleeding roses, Tender love and sensitive heart. The best poem of his he is yet to write, But there is a condition, She has to be before As for the inspiration And he drawing a portrait of an artist As a young woman. The blacksmith, the coppersmith, The carpenter, Their art of making, Turning the handiwork Into a piece of art Has ever lured him, taught him. There is something of Kabir in him Which but we have failed to mark it As and when he describes The weavers Making the cotton balls Or thrashing the bale. But he is a romantic poet, A pure romantic So sensible and sensitive, So sensuous and delicate, Reflective and thoughtful.