On Writing Poems Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

Poems are but feelings, emotions,
Experiences
If you are ever thoughtful and imaginative,
Sentimental and sensitive,
Want to put down on paper
With what to write and what not,
You have the substance of becoming a poet,
But forget it not write and write
Your feelings, emotions,
Images and pictures, dreams and desires
Lest they my run out
Unless and until catch you them.

The hamlets dotted against the hills,
The dark daughters smiling,
Innocent boys playing in dust and sands
On the village ways,
Vilalgerly hunger and poverty against
The backdrop of the sun-burnt earth of the summer,
No respite from the burning, scorching sun,
The parching cracked earth,
Dry leaves swirling with the wind,
Cattle returning home at midday.

The landscapes solitary and manless,
The hilly brook murmuring,
Chattering and flowing down,
The woodlands full of new sprouting leaves
Telling of the departure of spring,
The clouds to hang by and burst
After the reddish clusters of gulmohars
Blossom and scatter away,
The clouds will hang over the hills
And the rains will drop and fall
To add to greenery spread it all around.

Festive seasons will start with Lord Biswakarma,
The coming of Bhagabati,
Devi Durga, ten-armed goddess
In splendor and chivalry
Seated over a lion
And with the lance into the chest of
Demon Mahishasura
Emerging out of a buffalo,
Kali worship, Lakshmi worship
To Ganesha, Kartikeya worships.

Heralding the winter, light winter,
Chilly winter full of cold waves,
Shivering cold, clad in blanket
And woolen clothes
One going under the misty nights
To sit by fire and to warm the body
To be overtaken by spring
Full with flowers into the basket
To add to glee and joviality.