My Writing

Think that I will write a poem even though not a poet And I come with ink, quill and note book At veranda I find the table and chair together silently As if whispered they are of me None is there yet I tell the emptiness- Let the rain fall at first Let me wet and play with banana leaves Let mango leaves sprinkles the crystal drop of rain Let sparrow and warbler sing a song Let Maggie kiss me; a flying kiss Let me run with flamingo Let clay rub over my body There is no umbrella but I stand under the umbrella which made by banana leaves For raining there is no butterfly but colorful legume flower flutters there as butterfly Soaked into the rain I come to write a poem Borrow some words from west and east sense Compile the mediation and mix acutely before my eyesight Keep in the inkpot and shake purely I open the lid with my full knowledge and inclination Quill and white paper allows me on the table with chair friendship I start to write and I write some word; just some barren word Sterile frame of word In syllabic shape they are roared Think that I can weave the talent Kantha of poetic word But failed I am in the spot of pensive mood on diction No; there is not the stitch of Arachne No net of spider there is by the mercy of goddess Athena No gravity of elocution is there to read myself The glorious achievement of writing how can I expect Just tasteless water is the life of my writing Cause I am in the chess game of poetic ring -23/04/18