Poetry is virtue only the blessed posses

For the hungry, the thought of mothers milk
Is poetry, chalked on your dried lips
For the brave, a wooden horse drawn into battle
are verses that only history will repeat
For love in a world torn apart by bullets of freedom
A glowing herb of a poetry is sustainance for the soul
A loving arm of enemy is poetry for the sages
A lotus flower in a desolate pond
winking its eyelids in every morn
and sleeping until the quilt of night is withdrawn
Is poetry by those who search for meaning of life
Lilly reveals its answer to a poets quest for meaning
By opening its petals for full gaze, nothing hidden, its emptyness
A distance travelled by a blind beggar for few crumbs,
Is poetry for the vacant eyelids
A peacocks dance on a rainy summer morn
Is poetry for the rainbow that blushes at its sight
A mountain can swing on a birds wing
To hear seagulls cry for a pink sun