Posted by: Ron DuBour | June 29, 2014

THE POEM~by Indira Sadanandan




Poetry is in every man’s mind
As the divine element
In every man
Poetry is just as the sinews
And breath in a man,
Not a part of literature but
A part of man himself.
Poetry is in heavy traffic
In the mind of a man
As he lives in a world
Of the same kind
No need to seek time to
Write a poem,
It is like time itself
As in the case of which
Being for a man.
One has to learn sufficient
Words and that be kept in
Mind to choose from
Move the subject to the mind
From the consciousness.
Write the lines.
We are among words
And ideas
That the writer becomes
The poet
The poem is the writer himself.
Write on the walls of the heart
With the quilt of imagination
Making red streaks
on the paths where
Letters move.

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