My hand nurses a glass of wine;
In a room that’s dimly lit.
Up till now everything was fine;
Now for grief I search a bit.
A dark secret in my heart;
One that brims with pain.
Deep misery on my part;
Or atleast one I must feign.
That is how poetry is born;
Or so I have been told.
By masters who scorn;
At my venture oh so bold.
From great tragedy and unspoken fears;
Do the greatest poems stem.
I search in vain for hidden tears;
Not one drop to produce a gem.
I tossed the wine in the sink;
And switched on the light.
My poetry will be happy I think;
I am not giving in without a fight.
Don’t force sadness, don’t be low;
If in the end it sets you free.
Those words, I’ll have you know;
Are the purest form of poetry.
In a room that’s dimly lit.
Up till now everything was fine;
Now for grief I search a bit.
A dark secret in my heart;
One that brims with pain.
Deep misery on my part;
Or atleast one I must feign.
That is how poetry is born;
Or so I have been told.
By masters who scorn;
At my venture oh so bold.
From great tragedy and unspoken fears;
Do the greatest poems stem.
I search in vain for hidden tears;
Not one drop to produce a gem.
I tossed the wine in the sink;
And switched on the light.
My poetry will be happy I think;
I am not giving in without a fight.
Don’t force sadness, don’t be low;
If in the end it sets you free.
Those words, I’ll have you know;
Are the purest form of poetry.
2 comments:
loved it. and its so true. poetry needn't necessarily be sad. it can be all rainbows, sunshine and butterflies too :).like the eternal optimist in you which comes out ever so often however hard you try to put on this garb of cynicism :).
Thanks utopia. I am glad the optimism shines through coz even though a lot of beautiful poetry has been born when poeple have been in the doldrums, i am tired of the world believing that that is the ONLY way to write poetry!!
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