Born Poet

-Syeda Jebeen Sabira Shah |

A born poet is he,
My friend.
For what I see
Every breath
That he takes,
Comes out poetry.

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Did his mother
Read poetry
When he was
In her womb?
Or did she
Recite to him,
Whenever his
Hair she’d comb!

For poetry is
In the air,
In the morning breeze.
In the fragrant roses
One sees.

In the clouds
Floating by,
In the deep blue
Endless sky.

In the lonely stroll
Of the Silvery moon,
During courtship
When birds croon.

There is poetry
In the falling rain,
Even in the clanking
Sounds of iron chain.

On the blade of grass
In the sparkling dews,
In the sunset hours
In the magnificent hues.

In the chirping of birds,
In the children at play,
In the rustling leaves
When with the breeze
The trees sway.

In the swirling water,
And the churning cream.
All one needs is a mind
That loves to dream.

Wish you were a poet?
Just let your mind be,
Let the heart take over,
Let the inner eye see.

(New York. 14 October, 2020)