When words from my mouth fall short, my hands come to their rescue- this happens too often. So, I would suggest to read the lines, in-between the lines, above the lines, below the lines of whatever I write, and voila! without even talking to me you'd get to know me. Not that I don't like to interact but I prefer to keep it to a minimum; unless books, writers, food, dogs, music, movies are being discussed, Aditi (Idle Muser) would be found either writing or thinking of what to write next or glued to a paperback/ e-book or, sometimes, watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S.
When does Poetry occur to You?

When does Poetry occur to You?

Whenever tears made their way through my eyes, a poem was born; whenever unanswered questions buzzed inside my head, a poem was born; whenever fury burned my heart with passion, a poem was born. My poem, in figurative sense, really rose from ashes. It is the phoenix risen from the tears and fire. Oh yes, it is the phoenix!