Like a creature hibernating in its burrow
Waiting to come out with the first verdure of spring
The seed of a poem lay dormant in my heart
Through the long winter awaiting another spring
After staying torpid inside for long
At a time I expected it the least
Timidly came out the first word
As shaky as a calf getting up for the first time
Then another came and word after word in a row
Like pellets of rain on the window pane
I boiled them in the crucibles of my imagination
And finally dipping them in the ocean of my emotions
But rhyme came to set constraints
For the right alignment I struggled
I had to decide on its texture and format
Pondered if it should be a sonnet or an ode
I might have kept the door open for long
Alas! All my words and fancies flew away
Like birds taking on wings into the sky
From a cage where they were imprisoned for long
I stood so helpless with my mouth shut
Staring blankly out into the airy nothing
Like one lost in the doorway of his own threshold
Unable to call back those winged words lost in the void
Valsa, this has happened to me so many times after dreaming the poem and then losing it upon awakening. Now, I just wake up and write it. And I don't regret it. As always, your poem is eloquently written. It is filled with so many ponderous lines. And the imagery is breathtaking. Always a pure joy reading your poetry. Can't wait to read some of the other ones that you mentioned.
It is a common experience shared by most of us! Thank you Richard for your insightful comment and your desire to read more of my poems! Also thanks for the compliment!
I have visited this poem so many times! You have expressed so beautifully the struggle of a poet to find right words for expression.
Then another came and word after word in a row Like pellets of rain on the window pane I boiled them in the crucibles of my imagination And finally dipping them in the ocean of my emotions.......loved these lines. Much impressive with thrilling expression. Words of a poetry are so wonderfully metaphored with raindrops and ocean of emotion. This fourth hundred poem is so beautiful and heart touching. Full vote.
I can very well relate to this. Despite it missing rhythm, I was enraptured by the creative genius behind very medley of words. The only change I would have made (if I were the composer) is to replace the word " ocean" with " broth" , because I surmise it to be resonant with your perception of words or thoughts as cooking ingredients (as suggested by " I boiled them in the crucibles of my imagination" ;) . I am well content with this piece.
Thank you Vaibhav for your appreciation! I do take your suggestion seriously! 'Broth' would have been better in the place of 'ocean'! Thanks a lot for your insight!
Typo: " every medley..."
It has been awhile since I read this poem, but it still conveys the truest expression of a writer, reading this (and all your work) has a symmetry of language that is perfectly shaped. Your words are wings of eagles soaring as high and long with the best Valsa. now that you have made it to over 800 I can see you soaring higher. where stars meet the sky.
Typo: Please read as 400th poem (I beg your pardon for inadvertent typographical error)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
Ow. I know this feeling. Similar thing happens to both writers and painters. Your mastery of words and figures is legendary, dear poetess. Aha, please don't stop already!