A poem should be soundless as the flight of birds...A poem should be equal to not true....A poem should not mean but be.


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My tears are so precious
That when it falls down
My heart bleeds, my mind revolts
One day, my tears streamed down
My heart groaning and retorting
Asking my conscious to be the judge
My heart echoes ‘I had no bad intentions’
My mind fuming with anger said
‘I knew the consequences’
‘You must learn from me to develop
Thorns like that of cactus to survive’
My heart reasons out, take a closer look
Look deeper, see the cactus, see the thorns
Even these thorns have no bad intentions
It is only for protection
And if you know at one time those thorns
Bloom into tiny beautiful flowers
Good intentions reap good results
No matter how long it takes I’ll wait
My mind kept silent realising the truth
My eyes more clear after the flow of tear
My conscious in unison with my heart
That day ended with a gift of realization
The gift of cactus and  its thorns.


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Dinita Rai
J P Sharma Road