Hardik Vaidya (26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)
Writing a poem
Poems are not an invention of our mind,
They are strewn all around, all we need to do is find.
We don't need ideas to write poems,
We need an open mind to see an instant of a moment.
It's like being in an elevator with a woman you don't know,
Her perfume wafts the pores of your soul,
In real life you would just be, or if adventurous take a peek,
If a Knight do chit chat, with the shining tounge and the gift of gab,
But a poet what shall he do?
Kiss her and eat her alive,
From head to toe live with her a life time,
Till you reach your floor, leaving her gasping for more,
And before she knows what's in store,
The lifts doors close,
She is alone,
And her perfume lies in you for evermore.
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