Books short poem

Flipping pages inhaling words

Like open arms and fluttering birds.

A clay pot, a blue sky. Paddy fields passing by.

Just touch each word, it comes to life

With laughter, anger, pleasure and strife

I travel with people living in books

Resting under trees, hidden in nooks

Dusty jacket and a frail spine

An old bulky volume groans a whine

A lean booklet peeps from the shelf

Casually asks ‘Do you need help?’

Histories, spaces, fantasies and facts

Stubborn pages, refuse to react

With greed I read, I plead I bleed

Snooze a chapter, catch back the speed

A patch of self they paint with colors

Worth more than a million dollars

I love faces hidden with books

Crafting a bond with familiar looks.

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Chandrama Deshmukh

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When poetry touches the soul, everything starts making sense. The inner world seems real and the outer one becomes bearable. When thoughts mixed with words travel through the empty spaces of mind, poetry happens to me. It always has been a mysterious force guiding me through. With two published books and one amaturish blog, I consider myself blessed to have started this journey. An old diary with think brown cover and an over used, end bitten pen. That’s where real magic begins! May you find your undiscovered meanings in my poems. May existence make sense. Even if just for a little while.
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Jayshree Murali

aaaah… what a treat to read !


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