The Poet & His Poem Poem by Laxman Rao

Sleep which was my escape door
To my trembling thoughts of recurrence
Had shut it against me …. On its own will.
I believe it has done that for my lethargic labor;
Best I would focus on my thoughts –
I’d screen every moment of the mind
And weave the poetic fabric.
My mind wanders in the wilderness;
Lest that I would have it seized.
The poet is… his own form - the poem;
Akin the mirror which reflects his name.
The more he tries to flee the much he is seen
In the shadows of transparent watery verse