Writer...

image from google images

It’s a cup fully filled always

From heaven some words will drop-in in some ways

Something will be spilled from the cup

Many a time emotions acts as a scoop

A writer scribbles what comes to his mind

We never mind what meaning we find

There is nothing new under the sun

But believing not to say it again is a sin

What we scribble is just not words

For many writers, they were burning wounds

No better than solitude for heart will heal

It’s always the ink acts a medicines to our soul

Sorrows are the fuel for the flame

Because on the divine plans we are lame

We always wait for a better word to come

And to the love and to the heart of readers we succumb