Poetry Talk

There they lay,

Clusters of crushed draft;

Possessing locutions of my frantic hunch.

Conceived with vehemence &

Perceived with my imperfections.

The recited sagas might

Forecast my serendipity.

And often, the schemes of rhyme

Which I slip by time.

Now, the shattered heart utters

A stirring tale of vie.

Finally, C’est battle of thoughts

and words was over,

when the juvenile writer won.

WRITTEN BY,

PAVITHRA RAJENDRAN J