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BY: Jacintha Morris | Category: Writing | Submitted: 2016-07-20 04:11:32
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Article Summary: "The biggest problem faced by the writers is their liberty to write what they feel like. The situation is very crucial when it relates to a female writer. In such a country like India, the Lakshmana Rekha drawn for a women , with emotional black mailing and family set up either makes her a writer in maze , or as someone who write.."

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I feel, that birds follow me,
As I walk, wherever I may be.
Even the sun hidden behind clouds,
Peeps out, to enquire my whereabouts.
Insects abandon their honey-suckle,
Sweeps around, makes me tickle.
Shabby stray cats and dogs follow,
In fright, lot of air I swallow.

I could see the little shrub,
Quickly bloom, make my heart throb,
In sheer silence, with joy I sob.
Premature trees get laden,
With huge fruits, really a burden.
Rocks, I feel with wrinkled palm,
Ignites vibes, to make me calm.
River, sea, lake and stream,
Enlightens my soul, makes me beam.

Minute sand grain, stone and pebble,
Longs to touch my feet, gently nibble.
Wind and breeze forms a link,
Makes me sway, as in a swing.
I sleep, with fragrance of flowers,
Pleasant dreams of variant colours.
Twinkling stars, luminescent moon,
Pats me gently with lullaby tune.

Do not snatch away my pen,
Tie my hands, or make fun,
A Creative writer, only love for all,
Allow me to walk, don't let me fall.
No! I didn't urge for golden cage,
Only just to scribble, a blank page.
Read my heart, I mean no harm
I do new things to make you warm.
The insight I get from four dimension,
Is that all, I do mention.
I am glad, as I am made,
Please let me live, until I fade.

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Comments on this article: (1 comments so far)

Comment Comment By Comment Date
" Please let me live, until I fade" - love this poem immensely. The poet(ess) unwrapped her soul, much more than she intended. R Jayachandran 2017-07-15 16:35:38 2271

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