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Ottar Apr 2015
A wolf prowls amongst the ruins of concrete and glass
An appetite for the elderly, for the easy, for the edible,
Causes his stomach to growl for the emptiness,
of the stomach,
of the wilds overtaken by clumsy men and women,
of the structure, where people matter not,
relentless, needing not to be graceful
but there is poise, and
always something fiercely
poetic in the ****.

Even the weakest
is reason,
for a seasoned
hunter
to howl
after words.
no typos starving poet
Amitav Radiance Jan 2015
The trembling hands
When you look at the blank pages
Minds wandering for inspiration
Wary of touching the pristine
Ink raging, bubbling with passion
When the pen shall write
The first words, and then another
Minds afresh, it’s a new day
Pen, held between the twirling fingers
Wondering, what a circus
Reeling under as many ideas
Poet’s mind is on a roller coaster ride
So many facets of life
Reflections of each and every event
On the agile mind, wreaks havoc
Ideas, ideas, and ideas
Hoping the ink shall flow as fluently
Not leaving a blotch
But, series of beautiful interpretations
Of life, there are many
As many we choose to portray
Finally, the pen shall kiss the paper
Continuing the love story
It’s a trilogy, of the poet, pen and paper

— The End —