My Humming Word

As for my poetry creation,
Friends like you are at its core.
When my mind is untenanted,
Words in succession rush and pour.

If I don’t string them in a verse,
Then my mind goes sore.
My limbs get benumbed,
As if the death knell’s at door.

I work to cure my ardour,
On these words more and more.
A piece of poem thus extrudes
And I get sound sleep with a snore.

Image source: Wikipedia

 14,616 total views,  19 views today

Comments to: A Poetry Born

Login

You cannot copy content of this page