Committing to the challenge of
Writing a poem a day through
This month sometimes feels like
Welcoming a difficult guest, one I
Revere and even adore, but who
Makes incessant demands on my
Time, almost all waking moments
Even when drifting off to sleep
______
I must confess being a slave to
Vanity, seeking the clever words
While avoiding the verbose ones
Searching for “untrammelled” my
Mind only supplies “uncontrolled”
An unfortunate recent reminder of
Exploding bombs; shaking off
Shivers, I reach for poetry’s salve
______
A poem is not mere tessellation
Interlocking each idea to another
Repeating shapes without a gap
It breathes in the spaces around
Every word, breathing out images
That not just ripple outwards and
Towards the heart of the reader
But become libations to the sky.
ah yes... how it interferes with sleep.. I too find myself constantly looking for poems in everything, everywhere
ReplyDeletethank you for this lovely documentation of this time of the year maybe for all of us
This was beautiful. Heavily relatable yet so fresh to read.
ReplyDeleteThe pressure of a poem-a-day is beginning to get to me, too, so this poem came as a therapy, Jayasree. You've conveyed the feeling with such poise and candour.
ReplyDelete