Not Written With

Not written with Poetry is not written with problems in mind It is divinity of its kind Not all are blessed with this blend Only god is pleased to send God cry after seeing this mess Where you find no trace Of love and peace for poor They are forced to knock each door Poverty has become curse As if that has been thrust We are making joke at their plight But not feeling bad slight We are at low ebb And tap The soldier of poor with insult This has become another cult So poetry flows from mind With waves of concern to find Place in dark ink And air their existence with ink