A poem hatches in the poet's heart,
To recreate which he has to try hard—
Painstakingly brick by brick, part by part,
Head struggles— be it of novice or bard,
He strives on and gives every word new wings,
Yet, a child of head and heart, hard if sings.
A pure product of heart at last it flows—
Waters of rivers to the sea as get,
Rising from deepest depth rhythm as grows,
If of head, tinker not nor let a let,
And lo, the melody that comes to be,
Sounds primordial as if from cosmic sea,
And when arrives at the poetic shore,
Carries an imprint of a print so prime
That needs meter, nor yet a foot-bound time,
Coming as it does from the deepest core.
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Musings | 06.08.14 |
Well, well, well, I see what you mean. You may check for the change I've made and thank you so much dear poet.
This poem about heart straightly touches my heart sir! The words ripple and flow like a river......loved reading it....10
Thanks indeed, Dr Swain, your words sure seem to come straight from the heart, I agree, and not from a political etiquette-oriented head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem relating to head and heart is so incisively and touchingly delineated. I cite...A pure product of heart at last it flows— Waters of rivers to the sea as get, Rising from deepest depth rhythm as grows, If of head, tinker not nor let a let, And lo, the melody that comes to be, Thanks for sharing.
Thank you Kumarmani Mahakul for the good words. I feel, today's poems are excellent spontaneous expressions of heart, if only some more chiseling is done.