A poem takes no simple turns but magical ones, But what remains simple Is its words , it's sentences...
Like the depth of an ocean, Words of poetry are, Connected to the everyone, Yet detached from all. It's the flow of art, fom the storms to shore, banking upon the lonely sides, Rhythmic and synchronised tides. And in the utter silence of night, A calmness of sea, that lingers deep within the soul of a wanderer. @mirakee@writersnetwork#wod#arspoetica
Poetry is the unheard melodies ; Thoughts, ideas, feelings in the Depth of mind and heart, buried A poet with the magic of his wand, Resurrects them, After making them alive again , Gives a brand new attire Of ode, sonnet, ballad and may be a lyric , Woven by the thread of verses and rhythms, Embroidered with refined diction, embelled with precious literary jem, And then inaugurate it the world of literature, Some take life lessons and for some it Becomes a source of pleasure , Sometimes times touches the heart, and arouse The same sentiments as of the it's creator, Some perceives it from a different angel and Coined new impressions, And that's how an unheard melody often turns into an ubiquitous and well known story.
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chitrotpalaThank you so much everyone for taking out time to read my poem. This really means a lot to me. I am so glad that you all liked it. I am truly grateful to you all. Stay safe and take care fellow writers.
Poetry is blent through soulful verses not through mere phrases . It's an impromptu that pours down the reminiscences of the writer . A planned poetry is never an exception , neither an unplanned poetry is a misstep. Poetry is reckoned as an art for it contrives a new sense of beauty - a beauty which can't be seen but felt immensely beneath the heart. It's a fortuity that plunges a writer deep within himself / herself ; awakening himself/ herself from his lost sense of conceptions. Poetry in disguise is an enclosed baby in the womb of the mother - seeking warmth in the enclosure and it is nurtured gradually as it takes it's first steps. According to me, poetry is one's perception ; one's way of life , one's decorum to abide by ; and its art is to learn and nurture. It's never a complete piece for it's identity is to be broken ; discontinuous and incomplete. It never ends with a full stop and is running down incessantly.
A gust of cool wind, On a hot day. Melodies of Mozart, In writing. Melee of emotions, In notion Disembarking burdens, Using verse A contract To understand And misunderstand Heartfelt like the first love, Scathing like a broken heart. Lingering Like the first sip of poison Addictive Like the last drop Enrapture you like a long hug Leave you wanting for more And that's How Poetry Should be!
A poem should start with the poet's evanesce Afar where his insight and fancy coalesce. To a nacarat meadow of dahlia and daisy; Of cosmos and orchid and tulip and poppy.
Decoding the whispers of forests in twilight; Witnessing the gay shades of mountains upright; Gliding over clouds making pastel from pollens; Releasing despair like the flying dandelions.
Ceased telepath to the older times Trotting in a carriage by the country side. Lyrics of a song and notes that rhyme Capering to the ensorcel wind chime. Or it gallivants to the future in a coaster ride Exploring the wynds and wonder magnified.
A piece teeny, like a hummingbird, or Longer, like the wings of an albatross. A poem is an offshoot of a beautiful dream, Or the shadow of the poet's enduring scream. Idea more luculent, voice to be heard, Message peeping through the maze of words.
It should be the lantern to those lost in rawky, Or wand effacing layer of obnubilate frothy. A poem is an echo of mute emotions, Soliciting to churn bliss from the depth of its ocean.