By Atharva Rewatkar
Speaking of the days when quills did scribe
the words and rhymes that defined a poet's tribe,
where words like swords used to cut in blood-cold
and vanquish the realms and Galaxies untold.
I wonder, O Muse, of this quill's might
is it mightier than a sword in its own right?
As words stained in the ink's delight,
carved into verses absorb every fight
Inked battles wage in the lines of every page
As poets with their quills fight and engage
And honour the rhetoric, bold and fair
To win the conquests in that hostile air
Similes and Metaphors mellow and blend,
to carve a line, no poet can defend
In this infinite expanse of the lexicon,
Words begin controlling the kingdom they won.
As Poems and Sonnets display their art,
To rule over the world, creating a realm apart.
With inkwells dried, pages inked and turned,
those ambitious words bravely fought to earn
a place in the hallowed halls of every word,
to embellish bravery, to get the tribes stirred.
Can discourse and persuasion on a stage,
influence the kings and states to engage?
The oratory, grandiose and wise,
Coax the fervours of the poets to rise
In the parliament of this Poetic might,
Syllables and words sway the minds bright.
Tell, O muse, can a sermon profound,
Make the mightiest kneel on the ground?
Speak, O quill, with flourish grand,
Canst thou, with words, the world command?
As ink and parchment tell the tale,
language through the ages sail.
In the annals of the history's scroll,
World conquest by words is the final goal.
By Atharva Rewatkar
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