Making of a poem….

I am not sure what I am trying to say here. Poetry is not made. It evolves. Whispers of it resonate in your very being. Until it reaches the crescendo and translate into words. These words then haunt the forbidden recesses of your mind and finally transcends into a verse that one writes. How can it be made?

And yet, something compels me to write about it.

I am very proud of the last two poems I have written. Generally I tend to keep both sides of me. The poetic side and the blabbing side.. separate. I mean I almost never post my poems or discuss them here. But for some reason I want to today.

They say, though all the pieces of art are dear to an artist, some of the pieces are more so than others.

And these two poems are for me. They are the hallmark of my poetic ability. I am trying to say something in them.. which for long I felt .. I wasn’t in any of my poems.

Why making then?

Simply.. coz I could actually feel the process of writing them out. The theme lingered on for long.. waiting for words. Words.. provided in a prompt jostled to be fit into the idea.. and then a beautifully crafted verse was formed. If I sound tad too proud of myself, do excuse me. One is allowed to be.. once in blue moon. And if you don’t find my poems as nice as it seems to me, kindly refrain from commenting about it 😉

Sometimes, silence is golden 😛

Okie here goes nothing!

Alive

A heave of breath,
Slowly rising and falling,
A mind numbing, blood curdling,
Breast thumping cry….

This night will never end,

Like squirrel we scamper,
Trying to find cover. We fail. As always!

Our bodies,
A live canvas,
Red. Blue.
Enmeshed with
Streaks of brown and black.

Visually alive.
Spiritually dead.

Chronicles of a my life
A facsimile of yours

Rabble Rousers

Oh rabble rousers,
Arouse my soul
From this unbidden sleep.
Long forgotten consciousness
Needs a rude awakening
It seems lost
Since eternity.

Oh rabble rousers,
Break the walls,
The unwanted fences,
Cemented with fear
Rearrange my torrid emotions!
It lies in disarray,
Since eternity.

Oh rabble rousers,
While you are at it,
Can you please,
Find my voice
Make it heard above the noise.
Validate my existence
It lies in wait
Since eternity.

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10 thoughts on “Making of a poem….

  1. “Our bodies,
    A live canvas,
    Red. Blue.
    Enmeshed with
    Streaks of brown and black.”

    Vividness Is the word like those colors, Red , Blue and Streaks of Brown-Black!

    “It lies in disarray,
    Since eternity.”

    Liked this line, Lots:-)Simple, adorable:-)

    Keep up and would love to see more put up:-)

  2. I like both poems but I like the second one a lot more…it really speaks to me. And I think you have a real talent for poetry…you seem to pick just the right words to convey a thought. Beautifully done!

Humor me please? *winks*

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