Home Poems Why do I write?

Why do I write?


I sometimes do not realise,
Until I’m done pouring down flux of words,
Only my soul recognizes this,
It resonates within me like the plucked string of a violin, 
Responds to me with passionate verve,
But why?
It makes my soul weep while I try in hush to wipe them,

I go beyond the closed door to see ,
I define myself, situations and others I believe,
Trying to patch the cloth of my past,
Renovate my present and remodel the future,

The zeal I invest in writing,
Even amazes my own senses in interrogation —
It is the only key that unlock my secret kit-bag,
Helps me to open up to myself and feel the pain of others,

It reminds me of times, burying the worst and hoping for the yet—to come,
Writing teaches me and directs me,
To the man at the other side is stimulated to go on reading till,
He comes back to himself.

I pull the hidden of others sometimes,
I tighten the string in the guitar of others,
While I loosen the rope around the necks of many,
I can go wide, go far and lost ,
while trying to know the volition to write,
But —it is the only verb that makes me worth living.

By: Ronald Minel



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