Birth Of My Poem

Birth Of A Poem
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when words gather
like heavy rain clouds
and in the regions of my heart
I feel
fluttering wings of a restless flock
caught in the hunter's net
I know it is time
for my poem to be born

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when clouds let go
and falling waters
meet the waiting patch of thirst,
ever so gently, the soil frees
fragrance of her satiation,
when in flurry of flight
a flock of pigeons
leaves the silence quivering
birthing of my poem
feels somewhat like this

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