Poetry is wonderful. From my first poem written on the Goth invasion of Rome, to my latest Indigo– it has been a fun ride. I will not say that I polished my skills. Poems become better as your mind grows. If you’ve been writing with a same stagnant style for a long time, understand that you’re stuck. You need to flow. Yeah baby. For fellow Indians- Behene De. The lyrics, dear bits of population. Listen to the words he sings.
Uncontrolled Frank Poetry is an explicit expression, a state of mind and a work of art. It is like a blind splash of colors on a virgin canvas. And that gentle wonder in the eyes of the artist, when he sees the perfect shades thus created. Here, in this post, I would like to share some snippets of my poems over time. From my old blog, mainly. That was where I wrote most of them.
I looked up again.
Believing myself to be in my Twenties.
The tea was all of Forties.
But that one crazy sky above was younger than us.
And its passion was driving me crazy.
My silly ol’ Sky was Eighteen and I’d fallen for it.
From Sky’s Eighteen
Mind knew no Body
It was everywhere around us
It lived our dreams then.
Her touch was unreal.
Her words, even more.
She said it then, I remember.
She said it and she held on to me tight.
And we smiled.
Youuuu keep my brain working, baby!
Youuuu, I truly won’t flatter.
Youuuu, keep my kidneys working, baby!
Youuuu fill up my bladder.
Annie fills up John Denver’s senses.
But you, Coffee, make me lose mine.
From The Coffee Song