Inception

I should be a Poet,

I had thought that day...

What beautiful verse had I read,

I cannot remember...

Must have been William Wordsworth,

or was it Frost...

On a second thought I imagine,

It was She....

Blissful Night or some other tag,

I don't really recollect the phrases...

I only remember the rhythm,

music for the first time I read that day...

The cupids arrow had struck Gold,

Love at first sight....

"Words"

I was enthralled...

I had never experienced more pleasure,

in the plunge...

The ocean of words,

like a shimmering tiara,

in the afterglow of my newly found love...

Even the detestable cult of flattery,

finding innumerable synonyms in my dictionary...

Reflections in my memory suggest,

i wanted to describe my inspirer,

in the nascent verses of mine...

Am i trying to describe,

the birth of the poet in me...

or am I trying to hide,

the identity of she,

imprisoned in me....

I suddenly shudder....

These questions, 

that become my boundaries,

imaginations curbed,

Its only my words that break

the tethering ropes, 

my love, my words....

Was it you I was in love with,

Or was it your words...

The princess of conspiracy,

I decode the crypt, at last....

My stories I leave unfinished,

for reasons thus...

I'm yet not a poet,

I write random words...

Falling drops of paint on the canvas

They don't Yet create a pattern,

Just reflections,like a mirror......

-Ashk