Prose Poet
In me is a poetWonderHidden insideSo I continueTo writeBut rhyming becomesA hindranceIn bloomingThe themeAnd gets me stuckTo do redundancyExcessiveSo I quickly take a turnAnd continue to writeUnrhymedOn the themes of love –cosmosBut without figuresThey become onlySome opera showsOf sentimental talksI need to changeMy course againWhich I take at easeAnd continue to bring forthNew ideas and thoughtsYet I wonderIf I have written somethingOther than prose!!!