Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
Warmest climes but nurse the cruelest fangs: the tiger of Bengal crouches in spiced groves of ceaseless verdure. Skies the most effulgent but basket the deadliest thunders: gorgeous Cuba knows tornadoes that never swept tame northern lands.
Feeling, emotion, thought, idea and reflection get converted into poetry if one has the instincts to write to add to creatively, if one seeks to sketch and draw. Images, thoughts, ideas, memories, remembrances, scenes and sights give an impetus to write. A poem may be about the tombstone of Yeats with the own epitaph of his. A poem may be about Shakespearean heroines or Shakespearean criticism. A poem may be a tribute to Wordsworth, Milton, Shakespeare, Yeats. A poem may be about Lincoln, Gandhi, Martin Luther King. it may be about book-reading.
To me, poetry comes to me as a s scenic presentation of the Tiger Temple, with Buddhist bhikshus, Buddha meditation halls and tigers lying chained by; poetry comes to as the Mayan homes with motifs and folk arts and symbols. In my poetry I talk to the aliens from Mars with the UFOs.