Oh! he says he writes poems.
He says he is jobless.
Is he a Gobbledygook?
"No!" he said, reading my thoughts.

"Passion feeds my soul.
Profession feeds my family.
My soul is Well-fed,
but my family lacks good bread."

I couldn't get him
for the time being.
It took me a day
to comprehend this human being.

Rightly so, his name
befits his style.
His very fame
was for his joblessness and his odd smile.

-

Sir Verseworth was his name
and he was a man of much fame.
But I never knew him
though he was very well-known.

His glass, with wine to the brim,
relishing meat leaving the bone.
He was at the other end of the table.
And Oh! his mind was never stable.

It was after he left,
that I knew he's a famous person.
I saw him again, his pen swift,
over the paper with a style descent.

I enquired about his profession.
The answer came, "PASSION or PROFESSION?"
Oh! Even his answer seemed to be a question.
"As you wish, Sir!" I said.

"As for Passion,
I am a poet.
As for Profession,
I am nothing as yet!"

(Contd..)

-