The Birth Of A Poem
The Birth Of A Poem
Tingled senses, twirling thoughts
From somewhere far unseen unknown
Condensed as inky rain clouds they soak,
The meadows of mind, forest of soul
When an argent silage lingers in sky
Of frosty nights, of rimy moon
Myriad scenes bloom like silver feathers,
A verse tiptoes inside the room
A mynah trill on my windowsill
In tidings of autumn and snow
In season's arcane language I discern,
The strains and songs Nature bestow
And spill those words in script of love
For dew kissed night flowers to read
A verse trembles on my pale lips,
And I get the vision of poetry