The writing of poetry is fuelled by the desire of the
spirit to scale its highest pinnacles and in doing so it delves into its
deepest labyrinths
The result is a piece of tapestry that is woven from
threads of the past and colours of the present, with embellishments of thoughts
of the future.
Says the mind to thought-‘You cannot withstand the
hurricane.’
Replies thought with a smile-‘I am the hurricane.’
This brings to mind a verse from one of my poems-
Thoughts, thoughts
Familiar gnomes these
Buzzing in the mind
Like a grist of bees
Coming at their whim
Then flitting away
Bright and colourful
Or dull and grey.
Have a colourful day, all.😊
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