Poetry: What Is And Not Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Not when thoughts into poetic lines freeze,
Nor when prose decorated is like frieze;
Not when words painted are, and feelings pose,
When winter has warm wish to be spring's rose;
Nor when some beautiful images
Get captured in decorated cages;
When heaving hearts hanker to rule,
Heads hammer out young lessons learnt at school;
Nor as you see in this little poem,
When heroic couplets as if from deserts stem;
When lines are tinkered with ready tools,
And heavily loaded, look like mules;
Nor when old heart a mistress may desire,
Spent passion when burn in conjugal fire;
A poet that puns aimless runs,
In nunnery as if are nuns;
And alliteration's fine in limit,
It is like too much light needlessly lit;
Poems, not all but make-believe,
Poetry is no far from how we live;
Avoid schools where fresh wings are hated,
And minds are drained like fields harvested;
If you close eyes from what may surround,
And still can see for miles around,
Or with plugged ears still can hear all clear,
You are the bird that sings; you are the seer.
Thin line divides what is and not,
No art is it in school is taught.
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Musings | 10.07.11 |