//What is a poem? //

By Raavi Bajaj

The word screech for help,

the ink prints them furiously,

they don't tend to go along with each other,

but somehow, they rhyme and mutter,

they are tired of screaming. 

Fiddling thoughts and noting them down,

in a mystical way, 

exploring each aspect of the day,

never figured out how it all went,

but it's a gift sent.

The art is different and special, 

requires vigilance and tolerance,

can be about happiness and mess,

the presence of you embedded in the creation,

makes it special for the readers.

The timing is not a coincidence, 

it can be a result of resistance, 

but those thoughts and words won't leave you,

might make you stronger too.

I rest my head on the ink,

which waits for the words to be penned down,

With the question to express the gem,

What is actually a poem?

By Raavi Bajaj