As Poetry Is Born Within Me Poem by Parray Shahid

Strenghtlessly melted:
I find my senses reeling
And turned into a slave
‘tis might of my pen
Truly potent and grave;
Thoughts flock me in droves
Benign and salutary over my brow
And amid the haze of riddled groves,
Such dulcet quietude restive grow;
While in hard-driven, benevolent plight,
My fingertips charge in strange tenderness
For they seek some ink, some paper, some light
To fill in verses, render and impress;
‘Tis time again, ‘tis time
One rolling stream of moments
Shall follow another and rhyme;
‘Tis time again, ‘tis time
For tumultuous thaw of notions
To endly melt into prime:
As poetry is born within me!