Without poetic seed there won't be prose. The entire network of branches, twigs, flowers, fruits and leaves is nothing but a commentary on the small poetic seed. So all ye wannabe writers, nurture the poet in you, who understands the value of pause in life, who moves slowly to watch everything, sight and smell everything. Brushstrokes of poetry softly touch the soul without disrupting its restful muse and bring out nuggets of love, compassion, harmony and peace. All content © Sandeep Dahiya
Love leaks out of my body,
drop by drop.
Her cuts are incurable:
The non-healing holes;
the ever-existing outlets
for the mellowness inside
to seep out and turn stones.
No comments:
Post a Comment