something inside her is not telling anything
not even to her own mother
perhaps she could have told her husband
to give him a hint of what is really the matter
gorgeous, she wants the word to stay
lovely, lovely her hands sometimes claps
but her whole body says otherwise
it is confused whether to sleep or not
whether to take a walk in the park with a friend
and then tell all, like a child finally sobbing
it is when the rain pours heavily and
there is not any inkling to run for shelter anymore
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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