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Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

To my dads compliment on face book


Show me one poet who does not write from heart.
Show me one poem not beating alive.
Life when trapped in its motion,
When she is just about to bathe,
In her own self,
With no one between her,
But she and her self,
Is a poem, no great no less.

Submitted: Tuesday, February 26, 2013
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

My dad complimented me saying my poems are written from my heart, thankfully he didn't say by heart, lol. He is a good man. Has always been. I genuinely believe there is no ad poetry, some poems are written for you some are not, and the poets mission is to write, not to write for a specific reader. That differentiates art from commerce.

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