Poetry

‘Poetry is inspired;

A result of divine intervention,’

that is what they said

when I asked how.

 

Inspiration wasn’t easy to find;

The trams, the dirt and the sky;

None did any good.

 

Words were jumbled;

Phrases strewn across parchments;

And feelings left unfelt.

 

I took to the smoke;

Relied on the solace of Shiva

And the drink of the Devas.

But none did any good.

 

Then I saw you.

No it wasn’t the eyes,

The teeth or the skin.

It was the soul.

 

I said, ‘I am damaged goods;

Carry on brother.’

You said, ‘who is not;

I am here to stay.’

 

Speech was clear;

Sentences woven to perfection;

And feelings, a balm on the tired soul.

 

Now I say to them,

‘Poetry is intoxication,

but of a different kind.

It is the leap of the heart

And the bloom of the soul.

It is you.’

 

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Author: radhikamukherji

I am a simple girl with my finger in a lot of pies. A student of literature, I am also a guitarist and vocalist. I love travelling and my dream is to backpack across the world. Connecting with people from all walks of life is my primary hobby; others include painting (expressionism), adventure sports, dancing, writing and procrastinating. I wish to share the way I see the world with you folks. Hope you get something out of it. Cheers :)

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