Birth Of The Senses

I rise my eternal spirit
from the profound hearts of transient men ,
their blind , undulating senses is my home ,
Built with latent happiness .
Yes , they exist .
not impalpable , but clear and wide ,
Penned down as you are doing .
Tireless like a sea, grasping bodies in its mouth ,
to energise its own vibrant power .
Penned down are the staff of vicious truth ,
‘Mad’ it is considered in this lunatic nature ,
stuffs of naked attire ,
vigorously scribbled to dress me
but results into blonde scars
rapt around breathlessly ,
tirelessly .
You try to paint my wings with words,
incompatible for my existence.
I pity for the poor soul , that lies underneath your mind ,
who feels glad to serve me with unnecessary words ,
which results in decadence of my jovial mood .
And still you sell me for three a half penny
without my permission ,
you sell my heart filled content
and you get not only penny but also fame .

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Profile photo of Soham Basu

Soham Basu

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
The best yoga of a day is reading a poem or a book .....A complete peace of mind and a refresher .... Things become easy when u have a complete mental peace .... Stop each and every work for 2 minutes , read a poem and i bet you will feel fresh all over again :)
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of

Birth Of A Poem

Birth Of A Poem short poem

In the sea of flesh: pomegranates. I will not say what I mean. In nameless pit of hollow breast, a parting kiss of poetry. I will count my steps tonight. walking on tectonic plates before the quake hits. It was

Random Birth

Random Birth short poem

A unique, irreverent intruder: in my dying dreams, of a domain beyond the gifts. The corridor was full of specters in boiling air. The DNA will not cover the naked strands of desires. Put out to sea, my boat in


Birth prose poem

The Universe is a machine. It’s a machine that creates. It has the raw materials in the elements. It has energy sources in the stars and it has the software in mathematics. It takes these things and creates life. Through


Birth long poem

Nobody likes me, everybody does too I’m not divine, neither are you. Why do you hate to hear about a daughter? And cannot make your brain broader! You have used me as a tool; Never allowed me to attend school.

Birth Of A Star

Birth Of A Star short poem

Well and here I am in New York City Looking like I just stepped out of Vogue And the confidence I display screams GQ In these and those studio photos and Many high fashion magazines then it’s off To Hollywood