If I become a poem what will you write?

A part of my poem loves deep conversations while the silent part of it never ends…So tell me if I become a poem what will you write? How will you wake me up, if poetry soaks me up?

Not always sure what I’m looking for in the tendrils of my notions until the words undress themselves.

Sometimes poetry unfolds on its own even under the shower. Other times I fold them and keep myself buried inside. So here are a few poems, folded or unfolded.

#1

She is a simple poem 
with rain-inked words 
but from a different planet 
And one day a man with hiccups 
got drenched in the poem 
Never there after he got distracted 
by this hiccups of torn memories 
Because all he could hear was 
rain singing lullabies for him

#2

She was brainless;
she set foot in the world 
through the tendrils of her heart 
She started to feel everything so deeply 
and that made her world wrapped in 
layers of memories & poetries 

#3

A frozen poetry has a stream underneath
for only those who can perceive it..
Only a few can hear that rustle of poetry 
in the drizzle of heartbeats
So will you be my evening poetry
brewed in a cup of tea?

#4

Yeah I know,
Love is not to be claimed
But will you let me be 
a poetry on your lips
without claiming your verses?

Can you bring me a spring of words?

I need a blossom of poetry

Read more poems here from wordsandnotion

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