Poetry

Victims of my passion

Burnt dishes
dare not wish me
Often they rush from me
Witnessing my craziness
Burning lights
Go on giggling at me
Often they do stare at me
Questioning my craziness

I overheard them speaking
Both were lamenting on my passion
Which are victims of my negligence

Food does burn while I pen poems
Lights do burn since I sleep not soon
Intoxication of feelings to be delivered
Is the vexation of all the victims around

They do find me insane
As I do smile and cry while I dress my feelings
Ignoring the world around
Immersing in the world profound
Of words sweet and swords sharp

Losing self in the letters magic
Finding fun in the words wonder
Searching solutions in the lanes of sentences
Roaming round the world through the wings of imagination
Living in the palace of poems

Isn’t it something more better than ruining the beauty of the world with weapons wisdomless?
Away from unwanted artificial acquisitions
What a blessing is to be blissful in the woods of words!!

Burnt food or burning lights could never know the fun of immersing in passion
But wish I could escape from the curse of their being burnt 😁

Raji❤