Architect
A poet is an architect,
textures out a piece.
In its myriad forms it
breathes in her pen to
become a tree.
The newborn is a
beautiful “poet-tree”,
christened as poetry.
A poet is an architect,
juggling with sounds
and syllables, tracing
out a form in rhyme
and rhythm.
The outcome is a
beautiful “poet-tree”,
christened as poetry.
A poet is an architect
shuffling with metaphors,
figuring out a language,
unique in structure
and form.
The product is a
beautiful “poet-tree”,
christened as poetry.
A poet is an architect,
a dreamer, a doer,
a visionary.
Adept to chisel
beautiful images
with meaningful
outliers and inliers.
The creation is a
beautiful “poet-tree”,
christened as poetry.
Fishbone
Drums beat and beat and beat in the
heartbeats with hues of ecstasy.
Lights dazzle and dazzle and dazzle
every brightened nook and cranny.
Food delicacies and lovely apparels
get engrossed in frame of festivity.
Fun, frolic and laughter arrives
swaying in the cradle of the Goddess.
At a little distance a fishbone
is stuck inside the throat,
throttling breath of happiness.
In her tatters, my Durga stands there,
awestruck in her world of darkness.