nisheedhi

Inner space
2010-04-21 04:34:28 (UTC)

Poetry at midnight

Some times poetry comes at the dead of the night.

Some nights it is just words, their sound and fury
signifying nothing.


A fortuitous word and there is poetry behind it, waiting
expectantly,like a creature of the night suddenly screaming
from under a stone.

A word that had made no noise but when suddenly discovered
started making noises as though the night belonged to it.

On some nights poetry cannot be coaxed to come out of its
hiding .





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