This Isn’t A Poem

This isn’t a Poem,

I am not a Poet.

The thought flow, sometimes-

Quickly, scribbled without a cut.

Play of words, in the mind-

As is, on a sheet, minus the satanic Ifs and But.

This isn’t a Poem,

I am not a Poet.

Revolving around an idea, triggered by-

A leaf, a sweet chirp or a salt maker’s hut.

Or at times, it’s the open sky,

Or the book shelf or a bowl of salty peanut.

This isn’t a Poem,

I am not a Poet.

From a speeding automobile – running lamp posts,

Changing city skyline or a distant chimney smut.

Words – rhymed and unrhymed,

On a paper, pouring out your mind’s gut.

This isn’t a Poem,

I am not a Poet.

By the sea, a valley, at hours of dawn or sunset-

Words, from a mind, totally un-shut.

Some known ones, to this realm-

Yeats, Tagore, Omar, Wordsworth & Eliot.

This isn’t a Poem,

I am not a Poet.

In stanzas, phrases – lyric, dramatic or narrative

Ballad, Epic, Limerick or a Sonnet.

Pure, unadulterated thoughts – captured

By one, who is sometimes, called a Poet.

This isn’t a Poem,

I am not a Poet.