Window opens the poet's heart,
and the poet's heart get its wings.
It flies far, in search of nuggets,
crossing the hurdles, it gently sings.
It gathers the soil, silt, and rocks
flowers, thorns, and misty dust,
It blends, merges, and purifies,
Thoughts and words it must.
Filling it all with expressions,
It gently reaches the mind,
Poet then puts it on paper
and covers the window with blind. ~payal
and the poet's heart get its wings.
It flies far, in search of nuggets,
crossing the hurdles, it gently sings.
It gathers the soil, silt, and rocks
flowers, thorns, and misty dust,
It blends, merges, and purifies,
Thoughts and words it must.
Filling it all with expressions,
It gently reaches the mind,
Poet then puts it on paper
and covers the window with blind. ~payal
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Waah ..beautiful and thus a poetry takes birth
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