Where can poetry come from ?
Mind facing slow desertification, a creeping death,
Advancing age crippling faculties, putting them in bind
Myself feeling lonely and forlorn
There might be a patch of fertile land
Hugging the mind here and there
But who will sow the seed or water the plant
Withered plants strewn all over
Land turning more gravely as days pass by
Who can stop the process or reverse the trend
Man is no god and has to face the inevitable one day.
The child is lucky that way
It too cannot stand erect, nor walk straight,
Falls to the ground each time with bruises all over,
But rescued always with a warm hug by the loving mother
While in bed the child is lulled to sleep with a lullaby
The child hugging mother’s bosom while asleep, its sheet anchor,
The child smiles wandering in a dreamland undisturbed
Producing low musical sounds, its poetry culled from the stellar regions,
But for me it is gloom all over
Desertification spreading, covering pores in the mind;
Is there no balm to restore calm to an agonising soul
And allow it to sprout new seeds of joy and hope ?
“How can poetry come ?” the mind persists
“Give courage, give confidence, give security” beams a voice from inside
Poetry will blossom then, like the triple stream
The mythical Saraswati
Bubbling and bursting, piercing the layers of the earth
To reach the surface
Spreading greenery all over the land.