Perfectly rhymed
Father said
It is not a poem
I changed course
Next few
I wrote
Without rhyme
Father said
It’s a prose
What’s makes a poem
I was in deep thought
And wrote on
Some truths
Like birth and death
‘’These smells
Like gospels
Poem is like foliage
Of your heart
Yellow
Falls on your page
With a sweet sound
Of music on the ground’’
He said.
to plant a seedwithout understanding my effortfirst they scornednext they laughed outwhen I told them my ambitionand made me feelwhat a fooli wasI did not reactOr say anythingIn response of their insultI just gave a signBy biting my lower lipAnd casting my eyes downThat I was serious and firm in my convictionone day that seed…
Where I have nothing to loseI want to go there crossingAll known limits whereI see nothing except you.
Then the head is mere a scary skullAnd the brain is not sharp but fully dull.The dull head and the half -caped brainMakes you nothing but a person sodYou achieve but you achieve not a dimeThat left you stranded to appreciate god.The thing that swipes is called a swordThe man who understands this essenceTo him…
And me three thousandAnd half laterWe were on the same boatGrazing from meadows to meadowsGazing the beautyOf her rivers, hills and valleysUpon being tired as a travelerWe pretended to be a guestTill date you never returnTo the land you belongSo is the caseWith me and my clanBut where do you get the guts fromTo claim…
Everyday I perch on a petal of windTo spray the fragrance of wordsEven for onceI wish to blow your heart and mindLike a reflection of glistering dewAfter drawing the clouds of my thoughtsI am determined to pourA solid drop of rainOn the sharp blades of yoursTo get you danceEven for once on a floor.
Runs a line super fineAfter seeing them killingPlaying children on a beachSince then I erased that line.
