I am not a poet

The first creative piece that I ever wrote as a child was a poem. There is something magical about poetry. Even a single line can evoke several emotions within the reader. Poetry is profound and gentle, structured and abstract, meticulous and carefree, broken and whole. It is everywhere, within us and around us.

On the occasion of World Poetry Day, here is my ode to poetry.

No! I am not a poet.

What is a verse or a couplet?
My words have no rhythm,
Neither panache nor wisdom.

The meter is time and again irregular,
With thoughts strewn all over the paper.

Often impromptu and seldom chiseled,
Instinctive, raw and sometimes shriveled.

Style and form are for the maestros;
For me it’s my reflection, poetry or prose.

Scribble and dump, and scribble and dump;
I don’t how, but the letters dance and jump.

Maybe, this is the magic of poetry;
Creating its own pattern and symmetry.

When heart meets the mind,
When soul also gets intertwined;

They work enchantingly in tandem,
Making sense of the random.

No! I am not a poet
I am but a humble puppet
In the hands of the poetry innate;
The master is what I create.

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