I cry tears of bitter pain and sorrow:
One says you write prose and claim it is verse,
The other asks, is it only autobiography?
And one more accuses me of just recording
Good observations, nothing poetic whatsoever.
I think of that Quarterly with Keats,
And of Shelley’s passionate defence —
Where is my Adonais? but I should die first!
Separately, my verses, like Basho’s haikus
Undergo more revisions.
Last week on tour in Delhi, I read
Modern Indian poetry, searing lines like
‘Splashes a handful of moonlight over her body’
And had to confess white spaces between my words
Look and sound more poetic than my words.
Crying tears of pain and frustration as every writer has done after critical savaging by the arbiters of taste - the lot of both the great and the not so great! Cheers and press on, Daniel! Regards, Michael
yes I agree with what is said in between the two lines is poetry..as coming from the same clan [Literature] I enjoyed this one...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Literature is a mirror of Society and personal feelings also.It can not be written in isolation.Whatever we write comes from our heart.So you have no need to bother whether it is a poetry, prose or autobiography.It is a true account of your feelings.It is enough.Moreover, It has become an attribute of modern literature to write a prosaic poem and poetic prose or novel as it is a direct outcome of the complexity of this age.Good work.