I am on a mission. A mission to provide you guys with better stories/ articles. But, what I intended to post this week might take a while to develop. Hence, I thought I might as well keep you guys entertained.
My relationship with poems is not really a good one. I am very much neutral towards poetry. I have never had this feeling of goosebumps after reading a particular poem that many of you might've had. But I do have a favourite poem, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T. S. Eliot. This poem has touched me on various levels, most probably the way it was taught by my professor at degree college level. No other poem that I have read till date has managed to affect me as much as Prufrock.
But I realised, poetry is the easiest and yet most complex way to express oneself. I tried writing down my thoughts and it just flowed into a poetry form.
I would like to share two poems that I wrote over two months ago.
I don't like to name my poems. I feel by naming it, I am giving it a more precise definition, which I don't want to. I want it to connect with you on any level, the ability to provide multiple definitions.
1.
I try to grab it, my hands
unable to reach it,
I try my best, stretching them as much as I can.
Just so I can touch it, taste it;
Desperate to feel it.
I get a stool and consider it a cake walk.
Yet am disappointed.
The more I try, the more difficult it becomes.
'Snatch it'
'Grab it'
'Catch it'
Always missing it, if only
It were that easy.
With my head heavy and eyes red,
I sit down, Trying to think it over.
And unexpectedly it flies over
Landing up on my lap.
2.
Through the thick-rimmed glasses,
He caught a glimpse of her.
Those dimples and crooked teeth,
Enough to make his heart skip a beat.
His greasy hair and unfitted pants
Created a gap.
They were unfit,
And that's what was it.
He didn't make her heart flutter, she said
Or make her stomach churn.
He couldn't help but smile,
For these were the reasons he often heard...
Maybe,
Now was not the time.
I am not a great writer, just enough to get across my message. But sometimes you just have these few words in mind and don't know how to put them or frame them. They tend to become these fragmented thoughts.Therefore Poetry.
I don't know if my attitude towards poetry is still the same. But I am trying, trying to be more accommodative.
P.S.: I have changed the template of my blog to make it more readable. Hope you enjoy it as much as I am.
My relationship with poems is not really a good one. I am very much neutral towards poetry. I have never had this feeling of goosebumps after reading a particular poem that many of you might've had. But I do have a favourite poem, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T. S. Eliot. This poem has touched me on various levels, most probably the way it was taught by my professor at degree college level. No other poem that I have read till date has managed to affect me as much as Prufrock.
But I realised, poetry is the easiest and yet most complex way to express oneself. I tried writing down my thoughts and it just flowed into a poetry form.
I would like to share two poems that I wrote over two months ago.
I don't like to name my poems. I feel by naming it, I am giving it a more precise definition, which I don't want to. I want it to connect with you on any level, the ability to provide multiple definitions.
1.
I try to grab it, my hands
unable to reach it,
I try my best, stretching them as much as I can.
Just so I can touch it, taste it;
Desperate to feel it.
I get a stool and consider it a cake walk.
Yet am disappointed.
The more I try, the more difficult it becomes.
'Snatch it'
'Grab it'
'Catch it'
Always missing it, if only
It were that easy.
With my head heavy and eyes red,
I sit down, Trying to think it over.
And unexpectedly it flies over
Landing up on my lap.
2.
Through the thick-rimmed glasses,
He caught a glimpse of her.
Those dimples and crooked teeth,
Enough to make his heart skip a beat.
His greasy hair and unfitted pants
Created a gap.
They were unfit,
And that's what was it.
He didn't make her heart flutter, she said
Or make her stomach churn.
He couldn't help but smile,
For these were the reasons he often heard...
Maybe,
Now was not the time.
I am not a great writer, just enough to get across my message. But sometimes you just have these few words in mind and don't know how to put them or frame them. They tend to become these fragmented thoughts.Therefore Poetry.
I don't know if my attitude towards poetry is still the same. But I am trying, trying to be more accommodative.
P.S.: I have changed the template of my blog to make it more readable. Hope you enjoy it as much as I am.
