Being a poet is to sew the torn patches,    

It is like clearing the frame of mind.  

It is not in words,  

It is in your lifestyle.

A little dint of philosophy;  

Something deep which builds a wooden heart  

In you through all the carpentry.    

Poetry is not in words,  

You are a car screen clearing your way through the fog.  

A barrel of bones  

You light

And cast a living shadow.  

You might be lurking deep into the abyss  

A chasm so different might bear a shelter in your life and never leave you.  

Poetry is in the moment  

It is there like the fragrance  

Gone out of remembrance

And still making you not forget something of it.    

The air might write a letter for you and post it in the  

Wintry afternoon when the sun still hides.  

You can pour and not be empty    

Poetry is in the unbecoming,  

It is not in words.  

You should dare to roam with a wooden heart  

A tin mind and a wordless world,  

Poetry is not in words.

Perhaps, to write a poem is one thing

And to be poetic is another.  

 

By Sushant Thapa

From: Nepal

Website: https://litsushant.blogspot.com/

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/sushant.thapa.56