Hill Top

On green grass near hill top sat one poet Seized with serious thought but very quiet He was lean and thin but on simple diet He mastered an art in composing the duet He had masterly skill but not looking smart Thoughts were slowly entering part by part It was not age of cars but small wheeled cart This was only refuge where he had very good start He wondered at God’s beautiful creation Was it not serving right place for recreation? Who has time for observation and thinking? Hated and killing with moral slowly sinking Will my simple creation serve the purpose? If not serving well then what should I suppose? Should I leave it to fate and continue? Offer something concrete with ideas new No one took notice of his presence His presence on ground was not of any essence This provided him peaceful and congenial atmosphere Long vision, right decision with new sphere He had hardly any means to go on Paucity of funds and nothing of his own Poor parent forcing to forgo and ready to disown He determined to continue to achieve literary crown Luck would have its way and he joined the college Intelligent students welcomed him and joined as colleague Literature was his ambition and brotherhood as an aim So much to offer and nothing to claim “No sir, this is not what poet thought in mind” Professor turned back with gesture unkind How can you say this is not exactly the meaning? “I am the same poet who composed and had simple leaning” This was shot in arm for newcomer and student He had many ups and down in the freedom movement Consolidated gain with slow and steady pace Created position keeping others enough space