Poetry happens when a thought stops by without my permission.
Sometimes that thought takes over my mind and becomes a ramble inside my head, and if I gather the courage to sit and write those rambling thoughts, a poem slowly emerges at the tip of my pen.
But, not always, I am courageous enough to share these thoughts disguised as a poem with the world, forcing many a poem to stay inside the pages of my book.
So, poetry happens when I am patient enough to listen to the rambles of my mind, and courageous enough to capture those rambles and share with the world.
Poetry happens, when words spring on my unsuspecting mind and I feel obliged to follow its footsteps. Sometimes, though, these words take a turn in the midst of a writing session, and takes me to a different direction altogether. And I feel compelled to follow along. I get to see quite a varied views during such detours, and poetry happens.
Poetry evolves through me, evolving me further. There is a certain tranquility that emerges and binds me and the poetry together.
I relish every moment I get to spend with the words that pave my path, and I faithfully follow the trail.
This prose poem is written in response to the one hundred and sixty seventh edition of Fiction Monday inspired by the word prompt – THOUGHTS hosted at Reflections by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell.
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Yes, we are the instrument through which poetry happens. And it comes unsuspectingly, magically! Such a joy when we are able to create what our heart and mind both are in conformity with, right?
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