fire oddly restrained;
lost in the fumes,
inside surefire stockade-
releasing the shaft,
consenting it to breathe
disregarding its rage.
soaring above blistered
remnants which storms up
unfettered and uninhibited.
In May 2005, I started out writing at the behest of a good friend. I don't know what he saw in my writings that he encouraged me to write. I started as a short story writer. Not that I was any good at that time. But I was eager to learn. I don't know how but I slowly gravitated towards poetry writing. Maybe I was too lazy to write prose, maybe poetry was my calling. I can't answer that. Initially I wrote rhymed poems. That was the only way I could write poetry. After a while I started with free verse. I found that it flowed for me. I am very comfortable with writing this form of poetry.
Not that it does not have any rhythm or rhyme or lyrics but it is not binding in the strictest sense. I tried my hands at haikus. The tight structures disciplined my thoughts in a way I had not thought possible.
I have written sonnets, terza-rimas...classic poetry in modern interpretations. Somewhere down the line, I simply gave up on trying to write classic forms. Maybe I found free verse more to my liking. But now I think I must get back to structured poetry. There is so much beauty in those, so much discipline of the mind. I need to do that. One of my main drawback is I am unable to write long poems. My thoughts go awry after a certain point. I can't concentrate enough.
Maybe structured poetry will get my mind in the right track...What do you say?
cold reason-
why do you accuse me
of meagre strategy, your eyes
staring pitifully at me?
by your psychoanalysis;
willing and hoping
for you to be kinder-
to humanity at the expense
of sciences which are
destroying this world.
how you mock me so.
finally I look back at you,
uncaring of what you think.
................................................................................
This has not come up the way I intended it too. I posted it here becos I know I will never get around editing it and posting it if I don't do it now. All my poet (and non-poet!) friends are welcome to critique it. I will appreciate it very much.
forging ahead;
flowers that
we both picked;
sent to me
warped and stained,
stay unwrapped,
precisely like letters-
as from me to you.
