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All English Sonnets


When Kunwar Viyogi came, the poetic scene
Was crowded, shouty, full of noisy mime;
Bereft of hue; denuded of all green;
Mediocre Muse was served by shaky rhyme.

Preambles and prefaces were galore;
Self-preening was the order of the day;
The body was moth eaten to the core
And prone to irreversible decay.

But Kunwar Viyogi with his loaded words
And unencumbered calm and velvet tact,
Transplanted at the core, new innards,
And thus created this unchallenged fact

That since that time the love of Muse has grown
Without impending marts, and its own.

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