Two poems

In the midst of collision of two poems,
Humans lie breathless with their trembling hands,
Like a blind baffled with the touch of water.

The urge of a poetry multiplies,
By every tick of the clock.
And by the another tick, the tongue sticks out
For lapping of the words that shine bright.

The poignant rays travel deep,
In the spokes of sangfroid eyes,
And poem touches depth of the inward eye.