I could blow
But when I came
To pen you off
That would not become a quality
That could not lift my poem
From the average line
To the line of extraordinary
I started to use
Figure of speech
Like simile and metaphor
This is like that
That is like this
Still my poems remain very poor
I turned to tell story
They became good theme
But never become good poetry
Next confession became trend
I started to tell what my soul tells me
They became self indulgent
But poetry! they are thousand miles away
Then I tried
To create new phrases
New epithets
Next I went to doodling and surrealism
They gave me in abundance
But all are full of absurdities
Oh! my poetry
Where is your heart
Is it made of stone
There could I not enter?
When I searched all over the world
Among the poems, thousands in number
I could not find the key
People still like them
Put them on top for various reasons
Particularly I do not know
I just see and keep wondering! !
I hope same fate waits for me
At my poems people will throng in huge number
Though I do not reveal the secret, do not give them the key
This time, it’s your turn to see and wonder! !

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