Strawberry, vanilla, butterscotch,
mint or chocolate
Or a scoop of each
for the undecided
Mix and match to gobble up
or slurp it up once melted
Spoilt for choice you are
when it comes to ice-cream
So long as you can digest
the calories few thousand
and push the guilt once again
under the carpet
Not the same case though
when it comes to poems
Harder to digest than any
food calorie-dense
Filling one up with feelings
hitherto unwarranted
Guilt, dilemma, resentment
among the few to name
No wonder poetry-books
gather dust on the shelves
Seldom making it to
anyone's wishlist
Even the poets who
can't help themselves
Try to leave them to
the unclaimed lands of
jargon and restraint
Only God may care
to save the poets
from their poems
if he ever bothered to
believe in the devil
that they impersonate
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