What Is Poetry? How Is It Born? Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

Ask me not, what is poetry, how is it born,
How the origin and source of it? ,
Poetry is poetry,
Poetry is sentiment, feeling and emotion,
Originating it therefrom
The heart,
The fountain head of feeling and emotion.

A sentimental heart takes to
What one says, how does,
What does he,
Nothing the reactions,
Entering into
The hurts, wounds and scars of life,
None but a sentimental heart can.

It is a rivulet of thought and feeling,
Emotion and idea, image and reflection,
Sentiments make the outburst inally,
Emotions and feelings deepening the crisis
To materialize it the cloudburst
And it downpours.

Wihout being hurt and wounded,
Without bearing struggle, suffering and sacrifice,
Trouble and tribulation,
Undergoing them,
One cannot,
Cannot be a poet
Though there are other sides of it.

The poet is but a thinker,
A philosopher
Lost in his philosophical speculations,
Ideas and thoughts
As for them to germinate
And shape,
Take the wings
With the flight of imagination.

Poetry is a thing of the heart,
A heart-matter is it,
Taken to deeply,
Felt within
When stricken
To put down on paper,
Scribbling the lines,
Catching the fleeting ideas and images
Unless they be lost.

A lover, a gipsy, a vagabond
Can be a better poet
If the situations and circumstances of life
Are so
And he is disturbed internally,
With a reservoir of own,
A psyche under stress and reconciliation,
Recuperating.

The chances lie in here,
The probabilities of being a better poet,
A saint-singer, a wanderer
As a devotional poet,
A frustrated lover searching for,
With a quest for beauty
And indefatigable love.

A man enlightened with the Light Divine,
With the flashes of it,
The mystical delving and deepening of his own,
A man of religion and faith,
God-willing and suspension of disbelief,
God-fearing and pietistic
Will automatically sing forth.

A sentimental heart is a poet,
Ask it not,
How many times has it broken
And joined it,
For a man of emotion and feeling,
How does he cope with situations?

A frustared lover, a disturbed heart,
Is a poet,
Madly in love with,
Unable to communicate to,
Unable to meet
As the barriers lie blocking
The meeting.

The broken heart is the source and origin of poetry,
Poetry originationg
From heartbreak and heartburn,
The sighs and aches,
The teardrops falling from
And the candle burning before,
Oh, the pains of love!

Poetry as the statements of the broken heart,
A heart in anguish and agony,
Pain and trouble,
Writhing in pain,
Fluttering like a bird,
The throbs and aches raking it badly,
Originating from the bleeding heart.

What the world thinks, the poet takes to not
In that way way,
Why not they be called
Inactive and introvert
And impractical fellows
With nothing to do with reality?

The simple men they want to live simply
Without feeling any complication,
The men of the innocent heart,
They take to in their own way
Without anything to do
With conceit, intrigue and coquetry,
The frauds and shams of living.