Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Sunday, August 27, 2017

A poem

A poem tangled
in my capillaries,
syllables of scattered thoughts
stuck in the web of uncertainties.
I catch the words,
casually tossed in air,
and juxtapose them
so that they settle down
in a meaningful rhyme
but the clock ticks away
yet another hour
and I delete yet another draft.
Then playing with my thoughts,
I ink your name on a blank paper,
your full name,
and it reads like
a poem scribbled to perfection.
What could be better than this?