Upon The Quill's Stage

By A. Sanjeev Kumar

In the fair theater of verse and rhyme,

A poet seeks the laurel in this time.

With quill in hand and parchment as my stage,

I weave a tale to earn the accolade.

Like Puck in woods of words and dreams so vast,

I prance and dance with each poetic cast.

In the enchanted forest of my mind,

A Midsummer Night's Dream of words designed.

The pen, my trusty sword, a sonnet's blade,

To carve through lines and seek the accolade.

In iambic pentameter, I tread,

Upon the path where Shakespeare's quill hath led.

O Hamlet's ghost, inspire my tragic lines,

With soliloquies that echo through time.

To capture hearts and minds in deep solace,

I spill my ink, a melancholy kiss.

But soft! What light through yonder verse breaks?

It is the dawn of creativity, awake!

As Juliet awaits her Romeo's call,

I craft a love sonnet, the sweetest of all.

With bated breath, I tread the Tempest's shore,

In storms of metaphor, I seek no more.

A Prospero of words, I conjure, free,

To win the first, in Shakespearean esprit.

So, in this play of words, let judgment sway,

As Macbeth's ambition leads me on my way.

To claim the prize upon this quill-strewn stage,

A poet's fate, in Shakespearean engage.

By A. Sanjeev Kumar