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To a Starfish


Image by Hannah Cole

You look so daint in mirth, O' star of earth,

for scientific men your nature admire;

and lay ones like me in emotions' fire,

night on night, verses write!


Why shouldn't I? As each arm has an eye,

and though, your slight mouth cannot fit huge food,

if the meal is large, still all is good—

have outside than inside.


Fortunate you are, O' aquatic star;

as for walking, hundreds of feet you bear;

if five are aching, no panic is there—

the rest of them will fulfill.


Ocean's Asteroid, you stay overjoyed;

with arms whether fifty, forty or ten,

that magically build themselves again,

with a scythe, if I snithe.


Though cosmic Star's bright and within man's sight,

he stays fixed and burns, yet called Night's master; while you're spry, swim pridefully, age faster;

while he gets old and turns cold.


God, the most expert mind, made your sole kind-

no heart he gave you, to joy and grief store;

and no blood, unlike me, who evermore,

spills red hue, in rue.


Shamik Banerjee is a poet and poetry reviewer from the North-Eastern belt of India. He loves taking long strolls and spending time with his family. His deep affection with Solitude and Poetry provides him happiness.

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