Poetry is the heat,
a part of my flame,
it keeps me cool,
envelopes in a frame.
Am I sentimental,
idle and worthless guy?
Feeling keeps me human,
passions let me fly.
A force compels me
to etch on papers
beauty and sorrows of life
before they shed layers.
I share my sorrow and joy
with equal invisible souls
their wishes sent through ether
expand goals.
24th May,2017.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The act of writing poetry involves so many things that have been nicely put up. Thanks. Feeling keeps me human, passions let me fly.