"I am yet to write a poem which" i have seen in my dream.
writing is so easy that i thought earlier.
but it as hard as to give shape a stone into beautiful idol.
it’s so difficult now i know.
but how beautifully and magically poets composed poems.it surprises me fully.
how beautifully they play with words and rhymes. how beautifully they made logic i don’t know. from where they collect suitable words i don’t know.
but they celebrate the beauty of poetry and make a balance between reality and imagination and the beauty of poetry keep flowing from poets to readers .
readers get pleasures when they read their poems.
and thus the beauty of poetry continue from generation to generation.
it is so hard to write a poem i know.
so much pains poets have to bear.
sometimes the poet have to go out of the world Where reality and imagination meet with one another like a day meet with night.
for writing sometimes poets have to fly on the wings of imagination to the farthest star.
sometimes poets have go deep into the sea of thoughts.
when Thoughts meet in one point, my memory becomes blank for a while, i find nothing for Writing ,sometimes words flee from my mind. Only When emotion flows like river and words play a race of imagination.
And only when the stormy Clouds of thought turns into rain, i start slowly
Writing my poem.....though i am not any poet.


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