Ocean is dry
And fount not secreting
Wind still rove the dry land
In its usual way
I want to write
Everything in me wants to write
Even though ocean is dry
And fog too thick i can't see remote place
I must write
I must make these two lovers
Starring at each other expressionlessly
Make love to yield readables
Writers are born not made
Writers write and write
When ocean overflows its limit
When ocean overdries that feet could
Navigate the way of ships
Writers write and write
For is in them to write.
writers live to write, it's like breathing! good poem! keep up the good work!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Writers are born not made - for sure. You penned this poem nicely. Thanks for sharing.