Friday, 18 November 2016

Is Poetry Twilight

Why is poetry born? 
Does its womb in darkness churn?
Or is its river reason?
Where are its verses meant to reach
The heart in which a corner we crave
Or the home we left behind 
At the end of an old path of trust bereft.
Is poetry merry, singable, is it a song
Or is its verse only a whisper
Like the cry waves leave by their shore
In an ageless error of love.
When we write poetry
Are we answering or asking
Is poetry confluence of our humble sides
And with melody must it be sewn
Or is it the dissent of sore tides.
Able at performing within silent strides.
Is our poem a halt for someone's timeless wander
To hear which the wait has been suffered.
Are words of your poetry
Better guarantors 
At negotiating our differences
That stone walls cover.
I know that by poetry we undress
And cover the frayed flesh of our tattered soul.
Our poems are our window to the world
And the world's peek into the depths that we fall.
Where should we hide poetry
If it goes unheard
Why should we write poetry
If nothing it alters that it must
Burning, aflame
Consumed in fire and dust of hopes
Is poetry meant to die and be reborn
In paper or transcend boundaries that guns draw.
If it is meant to be the song of ages
Why poetry must be written by poets alone
Strange - poetry is immortal
When the hands that write it aren't
They call poetry abstract, figment, feetless walk
And the labour of a mind swimming among islands.
And to find a answer I yet must write another one
What do I know of poems and poetry
Or of their power and shelter
For I have only always crawled to poetry
To conceal the sky of my losses under its wings
To be able to go on, 
To breathe by my poem's shadowy side
To cry what I need and miss
To sing what I believe, 
I write those poems 
When truth and times force me 
To the twilight of my dreams


  1. Poetry need not be written by the poets alone. In fact, everybody who can feel, is a poet in himself / herself. And yes, whether in prose or in verse, the words poured out by the heart are meant to enable the person to go on by faciliting the venting out of the stuffiness and frustration within. What you have spelled out in this piece of your mind is correct only. Recently I happened to read something similar in the autobiography of Harivansh Rai Bachchan.

    1. Thank your for sharing your views on this one. Its nice to know them. And ofcourse, as always, happy to have you here.

  2. Poetry, as you have said, is written when the words come naturally, spontaneously. The reasons could be myriad ones, but the urge to spill words on paper remains always the same... :-)

  3. I totally agree with Maniparna Di.
    You have written it very nicely covering all the dimensions.

  4. Marvellous
    You write so beautifully
    Loved it.

    Anupama kriti

    1. Finally, I have you here. Unbelievable. To hear this from one of the most talented poetesses I know, feels so so great. Thank you Archana for walking across.

  5. Poetry is everything ��
    Loved the verse Anupam.

    1. Thank you Jyoti.
      Nice to hear from you. Hope you're well.

  6. Beautiful words,not a single one redundant.Hats off to you Anupam.
    For me,a poem comes out when I feel something very strongly.Somehow the thoughts form the words.But yes,it is like undressing,no doubt.

    1. So good to hear from you Induji. It's been so long. Thank you for the encouragement. The poem that you and I read and write comes from the seat of soul. So I thank you for this beautiful comment.

  7. So beautifully written... just like 'poetry', whose mysteries can best be known and felt in the heart.

    1. Thank you Arti. What you've said goes for every verse ever written. They all find their ways in and out of our hearts.