Poets speak truth,

I presume

in between lines and words

metaphors wrapped in a cosy shawl of emotions

personified as a beautiful bird flying to the unknown destination in a

a silent night

sailing through fluffy clouds of hope and desperation

they assume

they fall,

they rise and

sometimes become stagnant.

Poets write, poets bleed,

their priceless treasure

the hidden thoughts

those emerge on the blank pages of

a journal

@Soumya V



5 thoughts on ““POETS”

  1. amira January 4, 2016 / 7:36 pm

    it is the need to speak the truth that makes ink flow (or more appropriately, the fingers tap keystrokes)
    it is the need to stay safe and stay shielded that the truth gets embodied and woven into in between the thin threads of the metaphorical shawls that spread the words on paper (or on the screen).
    Poets speak the truth, I too presume 🙂

    • soumyav January 5, 2016 / 9:31 am

      Thank you Amira for sharing the beautiful thought.. Ya ,its the need ,the urge to inscribe truth.. 🙂

  2. vishalbheeroo January 5, 2016 / 1:24 am

    An absolute reflection on how crazy poets can be, sometimes in their cocoon and flying most of the times to conquer the world:)

    • soumyav January 5, 2016 / 9:30 am

      Ha Ha! We are the random impulsive ones!! Thanks Vishal

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