On Monday morning ....
One day you asked me to write
about the Gulmohar tree
and you asked me to write why
the color of the placid lake is grayish blue.
Since then the poems started pouring in
and I couldn't stop afterwards.
Now the thoughts keep poking me teasingly,
the words continue to sneak in the corners,
rainbow imageries peek and
mellifluous meadows remain where I am.
My pen tickles and nudges
till I start transferring my dreams on paper.
There’s no stopping any more
There’s no going back any longer.
By Wednesday evening .....
I don’t feel like writing anything anymore.
I deny my expressions and reject my poesy
My Muse is absconding as well!
Can you give me a new word please and
may be some new inspiration
draped in some novel design
and adorned in innovative opinion?
‘love’ seems boring now and
‘pain’ a valid cliché
‘loneliness’ like an overused body and
‘longing’ a stale stereotype truism.
My whole being has clamped up
and is rebelling against my poems.
I am sorry but I would have to leave them
without any justification
for the reasons are unknown to me too!
..........................................................
The upheavals of my mood;
the swinging frame of my mind;
my chameleon like temper,
and the dignity of my poems! :-(
6 comments:
Nice photo.
Monday to Wednesday... coudnt find a link as to why the poet/writer felt so.. is it "without justification" and because of "mood upheavals" etc? Or running out of/bored with the same ol topics? Whatever, liked the flow and the choice of words.
And here I struggle these thirty days past trying to write that which I do not know only by sound, a poem with half the dignity of yours. I cannot give you innovation but come April, June I will be more flamboyant and bloom.
@ Anonymous thnx the photo is coutesy amolife/image.com
@Bhaskar everything in this poem and behind this poem reflects my "meri marzi". thanx for your patience for the read.
@UG thank you. I just pen down whatever I feel like. at times, I do not care much for the quality of my poem. sorry for that. Thanx for being so modest.
Pen scribbles based on mood
On its own its just a stick
Mind the mood
Otherwise it will prick
The conscience of your pen
Thats very noble & good
Pradeep
^ Thank you very much for visiting my blog and your wonderful poetic comments, Sir.:)
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