poetry- revised... thank you guys.. peter, manisha
You say
You sent poetry to me,
Love scented from your bed ?
You say
I have not the sense,
And turned her away instead ?
I have her still
Here with me,
Always making me think.
No longer at your love bed now.
I write at the kitchen sink.
she is there,
at the most unlikeliest.
often in fits and starts;
she is especially good
when i am yelling at vij,
and tearing him apart.
I write poetry at Mocha's now,
With Mahesh and Nandini.
I write poetry at Manisha's urge,
Mused by Sunil and Zigzackly.
And lately I have written,
Inspired by
Avi, Atrayee and Annie.
You say I left poetry behind,
And recognise not what i see.
You say I haven't the faintest
When poetry comes to me.
I know she comes to me ,
At the darn'dest of times.
In bursts,in phrases,
hesitant, insufficient,
Sometimes with complete rhymes.
And when she comes to me,
She visits like a friend:
Stays, and chats
And warms my heart;
There is no begining or end.
You sent poetry to me,
Love scented from your bed ?
You say
I have not the sense,
And turned her away instead ?
I have her still
Here with me,
Always making me think.
No longer at your love bed now.
I write at the kitchen sink.
she is there,
at the most unlikeliest.
often in fits and starts;
she is especially good
when i am yelling at vij,
and tearing him apart.
I write poetry at Mocha's now,
With Mahesh and Nandini.
I write poetry at Manisha's urge,
Mused by Sunil and Zigzackly.
And lately I have written,
Inspired by
Avi, Atrayee and Annie.
You say I left poetry behind,
And recognise not what i see.
You say I haven't the faintest
When poetry comes to me.
I know she comes to me ,
At the darn'dest of times.
In bursts,in phrases,
hesitant, insufficient,
Sometimes with complete rhymes.
And when she comes to me,
She visits like a friend:
Stays, and chats
And warms my heart;
There is no begining or end.
Labels: poetry
Selected by Anonymous |
18:08 |
3 Comments:
Good heady stuff!! The kitchen sink hits you much
more forcefully than the previous version -- I read
it, stopped, and then looked for who it was from!!!
But the rhythm loses out a bit by the fourth stanza. . .
I thought zigzackly's lines on the earlier draft
had a hint of tightness. . .
Your poem reminded me of several poems, some are
still submerged, but a couple surfaced:
A. By Bijaya MukhopAdhyAy - Poetry: When you come to me
When you come
It rains in my heart
Skin atremble like blades of grass
Long-closed doors open
In deep confidence.
When you come it rains
In my heart.
B. Gary Snyder: How Poetry comes to me:
It comes blundering over the
Boulders at night, it stays
Frightened outside the
Range of my campfire
I go to meet it at the
Edge of the light
Bye
Sweet! :)
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