It Is A Mircale

It is a miracle

That at the right time,

WORDS fly like a missile,

poems are born to rhyme.


Inspirations descend from the Heaven,

As natural as the volcanic eruption,

Imagines of WORDS are magically woven,

Leaving U No other option.


As soon as the title is jotted down,

U R compelled to move on.

A poem is born, what a joy,

It is as fresh as a newborn baby, for all to enjoy.

19 thoughts on “It Is A Mircale

  1. People often hide behind the transparent and thin words, seeking a refuge in the moulds inherited from centuries of the others’ lives. I do. Do you?

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