Swimming In Poetry Soup
Poetry contests offer an inspiration frame,
where the competing poems get fairly judged,
get a place in the shared showcase.
It’s not to earn any literary accolade or fame,
for nobody is running a poetic race.
The contest entry is the choice of free will,
as there’s limitless options for the muse
to follow the sponsors’ edicts in plenty.
The bowl of beguiling erudite soup,
where the lyrical noodles wriggle,
poets stir with their magical wands of word,
turning it into an alluring pond
with the slithering reeds invisible.
The challenging urge of the fellow poets,
makes scholarly swimming contests abound.
Many participants with sailing aspirations
plunge in the uncharted waters of the pond,
and glide with the lyrical rhythm to win.
I haven’t yet learnt to swim well
in the deep waters of infinite imagination,
but the call of contest inspires me to take part.
As the ace swimmers win the arduous races,
I manage to keep afloat,
tangled in the tangible twigs of opinion,
spend the toughest time in the pond, learning.
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