What is poetry if no amount of words are satisfactory what is poetry while corruption eat the soul of the soil I walk up on What is poetry if remember nothing but the pain of a pen that bleeds ink what is poetry if I run out of words to speak what is poetry if I can't even draw a picture of I in a smile miles away from home with is poetry I ask once more what what is poetry
The Thinking Rain
Lying on bed, nothing in mind
As the deserted black desert.
Think on half circled moon
Often on the falling Dew
The red road lights, seldome
Catch my heed, Slept air too.
Once the serene night dark
Calls my Inner soul to speak.
My eyes trap in myriad stars
Ears hear The Silence' sound
I listen the Talks of trees
The whisper, of genie , ghosts.
Heart feels the God Presence
Shoulders sense the angels' load
But I cann't Think of Deem
I cann't converse with Brain
It's not in my Control
I try, again try , in vain.
No idea, no debate I make
I weep, weep and weep more.
Then I hush, and Sleep lone,
With too many waste desires.
Yet in busy scene, it rains
Much Ideas and mind's images.
With no story I get story
I write, activate my spirit.
The Thinking rain, rains fully.
No scene needed, Its Godly.