A dead matter,
Flown out soul,
Though I intend, I indulge
Many a times I kill
Rendering to death
Offspring to shape.
Give life!
Though the ink is cold
Every sitting, a new transplant
Born in solitude,
Words are the oxygen,
I let you breathe.
Thoughts where I am grown,
Feelings, I am planted in
Before I let it run.
Quietness is all I ask
The hen is brooding
Eggs will break
Life is coming out.
life is coming out, good write, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good write...keep sharing....