Poem, A new Born
*************
Aching emptiness
I hate
Activity, somewhere
Somehow
I need most

Whispering
Stillness
wandering sickness
Plagues me a lot

I want sounds
That spells
Life
Sometimes in
Low tones
And at times
In high drums

Time
Should not
Draw blanks
till the last moment
i perspire

So I scribble
Poems at least
One a day
Till I
Relax to bed
Reserving,
resoluting
and Resonating
Silence to woods

----R.PURUSHOTHAMARAO

supani@yahoo.com