Does poetry float in your mind,
As lotus does in the pond?
Do you sleep with poems or poems throng
When you sleep and go deep,
...
From the mundane experience
Of this monotonous stale life,
You all take us to a fanciful
World of love, affection, anger.
...
Before coming to the screen,
I don't know what to write
Or, at all it'll spring
Out from the experience
...
It was a faded moonlit-night.
The wood near was very dark,
as it was too thick, dense so,
You won't see if anyone does lurk.
...
When I first met you my life,
you were adorned with word.
Nothing mucky could you touch.
Your road was I thought, homeward.
...
I'm not so tender that
you can make me cry.
But, my softest feeling
can't ever be dry.
...
An almost solitary station,
two or three stray dogs
coil to get sudden peeping
ray of the sun.
...
You alleged, my poems aren't
my wings' pure off-springs.
My imagination is numb,
my thought dull thing brings.
...
For long you don't step
In this world of imagination.
It seems you are vanished,
In the milky way of space.
...
There was stillness in your gaze.
You wanted to tell something...
About the hill, the pine trees
Or the waterfalls prancing towards
...