( This poem resulted as I was pondering over the question as to how should my poems be. I
was trying to pull the vague feelings and hunches on to the surface and to my surprise it
emerged in the form of a poem...)
I read a lot of books, wrote intelligently too,
I imagined that I was good and loved by all of you.
A hope was born in my heart, it flowered...
My inspiration was the world, its mysteries uncovered.
I loved to watch and understand the ways of the world,
A student of life, its miracles I behold...
Picking up the pen, I thought and wrote..
Words flowed creating visions,myriad possibilities came forth.
I wove the magic with my pen as I sat unravelling insights,
But then the science of it clouded my sight.
My mind analysed, it calculated and cringed,
The spark of magic, my creativity was singed.
The search for mechanical perfection spoiled my delight,
Forgot the lesson of love, passion was reduced to a skill overnight.
A wall emerged, fortified by my beliefs of what a poem should be,
Reduced to an equation, my perfection killed me.
I went outside for a walk to meet the trees, hills,clouds and the birds,
Seeing, breathing it in, opened myself to the world...
Travelling beyond, felt the moment stretch into an eternity,
And realised- the minor imperfections, the aberrations are the beauty.
Every line should be new,capturing passion,
Struggle against the flow, create a commotion...
Breathe fire into the being, ignite the minds
Let every soul feel the strength inside.
Fight to create, to taste freedom within...
Its better to die than to write what I do not believe in,
To write as I see it, feel it and love it,
I write to stir,wake and free the spirit.