A Poem For Poets - Poem by Sanjukta Nag
This is the moment of supernaturalism
When we bury the sun under Mariana Trench,
Slaying him into pale pieces.
Or we lit up the moon on the forehead of dawn.
This is the moment of supreme joy
When we swing like little children
From the colourful bough of imagination.
Life starts flowing like a translucent holy river,
Where we wash hands for writing
The eternal words of our rain-soaked hearts.
This is when impeccable poems take birth.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You