I am an English teacher. Aren’t I?
Every body likes you. Don’t they?
Or doesn’t he? What is this?
Am I making unnecessary fuss?

You are still the lover of only the class
Will you ever be the darling of the mass?
If somebody knows you, he becomes a boss.
If anybody ignores you, she will be at a loss

You are difficult to spell
The only thing we do is to yell
Your  description is mere hammer
But you have a lot of glamour

You are expanding like the universe
Even a foolish poet like me writes your verse
You are the queen of all speakers
And will surely stay for all ages

war and politics
know nothing about fairness
winning is the aim

Poets are really fools
They always think of others
And want to change this huge world
With their tiny insignificant word

They can never control their emotions
And try to swim like fish in the oceans
They want to cross the nations
And try to create some sensations

They try to fly like birds
With their imaginary feathers
They want to talk about all weathers
Poets are really fools

They want to live like honest men and women
Forgetting that this world is corruption prone
They want  to transcend all barriers
And are  even ready to ruin their careers
Who will listen to their sane words?
Poets are undoubtedly fools

Where have you gone my friend?
I am shocked to know about your untimely end
You have always given us  YOUR wonderful heart
How can we forget your poetical art?

You lived in India for many years
Your demise causes US inconsolable tears
Death is a cruel and gruesome monster
His ways are always sinister

The poetic world has stopped for a while
Our faces are totally devoid of any smile
I don’t still believe your demise is true
I can never forget you and your view

As a poet you have no spiritual death
You might have left this transitory earth
In our hearts you always get re-birth
Nobody can redeem your immeasurable worth

Your tomb is unfortunately not very near
But I shed my incessant tears here
You always dwell in my heart dear
I listen to your sane voice very clear

I know in this world I live for only once
I have determined not to lead a life of a dunce
There should be some meaning for my life
It is not at all a matter of a great hype

Real happiness lies in making others happy
For me that is the greatest winning trophy
When I leave this transitory world
I leave my image and fly like a bird

Unless I do something for the society
I can’t be considered a living entity
I may not become  a great sage
But in history I should find a page

I have inevitably resorted to philosophy
Only it can make me divinely happy
I came to this world empty handed
And leave this world When I am totally stranded

Oh! The bard of Strataford Avon
You beautifully painted the journey of man
you are the best poet in the world
the poetic muse wrote for you the word

you are the greatest dramatist of all ages
the critics have written pages and pages
your poetry is a sheer joy
even the poetic muse becomes a tiny toy

your wonderful skill is tragedy
but your natural instinct is comedy
your clown speaks wonderful truths
but your king is surrounded by heinous coups

You wrote with a gold pen
And painted the real men and women
I am your true fanatic
You are the world’s greatest critic