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The moon fondles the clouds
On a moonlit night
Waves collide with each other Wafts of fragrance
The moon fondles the clouds The eyes
search for someone
On all horizons
Poetry
I don’t call myself a poet
And neither
Do I want to become one
But all that you call poetry
Perpetually surrounds me
You say
“Silence”
And I hear the sound of silence
You say
“Breeze”
And the ruffle of a cool breeze Permeates my Imagination
You say
“Ocean”
And I, myself
Become a wave
I do not know
What poetry is
But I would like to express something for the first time
Just my thoughts
Without knowing
How you would denominate them
I want to become a Penguin
On the sands of the seashore
The mountains touch the skies
Facing the snow bound fields
I Stand solo
Suddenly
A hole appears in the snow field
And then a face peeps out
Then the eyes
Then a head
Followed by the neck and the rest of the body A penguin
Dressed in black & white
With smiling eyes
It looks at me
The mountains
And also the snow field
But does not find anything to be deserving of attention A little late
A whole army of the penguins
Dressed up in black & white uniforms Passes by me
As if a triumphant army returns home Gloating in the glory of victory
The penguins stagger
Left & right
Maybe, the thoughts of meeting those in love
had elated their spirits
Then again, maybe,
They were conversing about being in love themselves
Otherwise
They have certainly have noticed me
And if not me
How can one disregard mountains
Maybe, they were talking about love
Surely,
They were talking about love
Surely
This is what they were doing
Dreams shall welcome you
My dreams
Stand at the door
You shall come
And they shall welcome you
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