I
pluck poems from the milieu
Yea
all kickaboo! pickaboo!
It’s
sheer magic, excellent
Eye,mind,brain,
hand co ordination
Work
in tune to pick the blossoms out there
To
line them up in flowing words
The
open blue skies
The
dense rain forests
The
charming mountains
The
verdant deep valley
The
lush green meadows
The
meandering curvy river
Waves
thundering sea
Waves
touching sea shore
The
splashing silvery waterfalls
All
nestling in nature
The
beautiful loving gal of me
All
those eyes capture
Store
them in memory
To
put them into instant use
Or
for leisurely later use
A
switch in the brain comes alive
As
it activates the flow of words
The
poems picked up from the milieu
Blossom
in rhyme and rhythm
Yea
all milieu kickboo! me just pickaboo!
The
laughter,joy, sorry and tears
Sports,humour
and what not
All
come from the impact of milieu
Leaving
an imprint on me
Great
way to pluck the poems, Hurray!
The
poem is akin to a blossomed flower
Right
poem with right words
Will
never fail to make the impact
As
does a flower to the inhalers!
I
keep plucking, with all your wishes, thanks!
-Mohan Sanjeevan
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