Birth of a poem

Today is World Poetry Day 2020 and I would like to share this.
Love and light to everyone.

Megha's World

This is the fourth and the final poem in the anthology of poems called Lifecycle of a poem.

bogomil-mihaylov-519199.jpg
My taloned hands
my bony 
fingers are itching 
to dip themselves in the 
ink and 
paint 
a visceral picture of 
pain and 
beauty and
all that there is;
Chaotic thoughts
in my resplendent mind
is looking for a vent 
a small window,
rushing and pushing them
to get that whiff of air
A word, drop 
dripping here and there 
marks and maps the trail
for my salvation
for my ashen heart
and an
opulent window
for my dreams and desires
A fistful of angst and sadness
poured and rubbed over the pages
molds and shape my
unspoken desires
born naked on the 
nape of my neck
giving voice to the
unborn voices 
in a million tongues.
You can lick, suck and 
soak yourself
in the exuberance of the 
beauty 
I’m carrying within
Before I write and…

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22 thoughts on “Birth of a poem

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