Being A Poet

It is not easy to become a poet;
To express your thoughts on a piece of paper.
To grope for words well crafted.
To live and breathe your passion every single moment.

I would spend hours and hours.
Erratic deliberations kept hovering in my mind.
Inscribing your tangled psyche in a few lines
Was as difficult as walking barefoot on sand.

Those moonless nights would never end.
And I, sitting beside a flickering lamp
Would rummage through a lexicon of phrases,
In yet another attempt to compose a meaningful poem.

It is not easy for everyone
To survive in the world of wordy obligations.
Inspiration and imagination, they say, are all that you need
Which is not everyone’s cup of tea, indeed!

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