Quietly going crazy…

 

Photo by Ankita.G

A poet’s dream

 

Quietly closing my eyes,

I lie awake in my dream.

Why is the Sun so cold?

Why is the river,

scalding my skin?

 

Was the tree always upside down?

And the flowers grew underground,

Why do the stars twinkle at noon?

Why do the fishes fly around?

 

Why do the ugly butterflies,

emerge out of the beautiful cocoons?

Why are there only two black stars,

and a thousand red Moons?

 

Sleeping or awake,

a poet is in a crazy place.

Only a poet can see,

a poem in a fantasy.

 

Sulekha Rawat

 

 

 

 

 

 

7 Comments

  1. Dear Sulekha,
    I am smiling after reading this poem, because you are so right. No one can understand a port's vision…(s)he sees beauty where everyone else sees none. A poet's words in fantasy can seem like reality to some. Nicely expressed! Thank you for sharing.

    No Meaning

  2. This was like a elegant dish of food. I savored it slowly and didn't want it to end. You know the mind of a poet so well because you are one through and through. Glad to know you. 🙂

Share your thoughts before leaving :)