Wednesday, January 27, 2016


It is the lust for words that enables to write,
It's the crush for metaphors that makes me bright.

It's love for writing I form some sentences,
Who will read! I don't care about future tense.

Every word is a woman of different character,
The curl in every letter! O! Wonderful structure.

I carve to write and I long to finish,
Let it not for anybody; my words I admonish.

I write or rewrite; there is nothing new under sun,
But, i create my own moon and sun, oh that is what is fun.

By the time I finish I find no reason,
But with no doubt I write; to write is there a season?

To write you need to love and hurt,
But I require no ambiance to write; I can even be a hut.

Writing is not a male or a female thing,
But its the romance of mind and heart in cuddling.

I am hurt deep in heart I talk to my pen,
To heal me, my pen talk to the paper and makes pun.

I love all those who read, sometime even mine,
But if you eschew it is okay I will always be fine.