I am no poet
For a poet is meant to be
A constant,
And I,
Keep flitting from the heroics
To being the victim,
And to being a mere onlooker
In this world full of stories
That wait afresh and raw
To be covered with a shroud of ink
On the deathbed of sheet
In the land of fantasy.
Better than a chamelion,
I change my colors,
From love to hate
And joy from pain.
Higher than ego
And brighter than a fake smile
I can make you melt
Into a puddle of in the mixture
Of fire and ice
For I do not know how to make someone
Smile or cry.
I cannot write
Just retrace the path the words
Guided me into
I cannot rhyme
For I cannot bleed ink and make
My muses a shrine.
I can just draw a few ink of swirls
As I make you one of the masterpieces
In an art I often fail
For I am not a poet
Just a wanderer linked to the stories shrouded in ink and sanctuarized in vain.

-

वो सबसे खूबसूरत
प्रेम कविताएं,
जो छपी मिलती हैं
तुम्हारी आंखों के पन्नों पर,
ये कलम
कहां उतार पाती है
उन्हें हूबहू,
इन कागज़ों पर!
मेरा हृदय
उन्हें सहेज लेता है
पहले ही स्वयं में...

शायद इसीलिए
मैं कभी नहीं लिख पाती
अच्छी प्रेम कविताएं..
क्यूंकि,
वो सिर्फ
तुम्हारी आंखों तक ही
पहुंच पाती हैं...।।

-

|| Life ||

Live and let live
If possible Spread Love 💞
Feel also, the warmth of love 💓, and
Empty those harsh thoughts from heart...

-

How I end up writing fragile poems

I begin my poem by saying this clearly,
"I'm no writer" - yours sincerely.
But I have acquired this sickness,
I need to scribble words to seek forgiveness.

~in caption~

-

Not a poet though.
//Caption

-

For I'm not a poet, I whisper in his ear rather than paper.

-

Getting better,
As I give away myself,
To the places I call home,
To be lost and not to belong.

( Poem in Caption )

-

A little conversation.. #1

HE : so are you a poet...?

SHE : No, I'm just Nature Lover, Lover of Love,Love him,HE is my Poetry and I'm not a Poet...

-

Coal

Black
As I contain a rainbow
Visible yet hidden

(Poem in caption)

-

A person new to writing can't write as
he expects, but gradually he develops.
The more he writes the better he becomes.

Even a newly emerged butterfly
can't fly with it's tiny, shriveled wings,
Until its wings reach their full size.

-