A Non-poet's Philosphy
All poets write in insanity
Impervious, to the entire
You,
The king of your own poetic empire
as thoughts get formation
each different, in poetic efficiency
I,
An adulterated soul
You,
With the rein, control
And you make me lurk in your words
Like those lonely, pale birds
Your quill, into that paper, bleeds
And she says in her musical voice: Proceed”
and you portray my misplaced soul
in the veiled privacy of twilight
in your new-born mind of sight, deep insight
You,
in a steep valley side of paradise
idly extracting the elixir of the unexplainable
and redressed, arise
Exotically, master the unattainable
in expectant poetry;
churned out of sleep in disharmony
I stand still, hopeless
sleep a sleep, but dreamless
betwixt you and your sword
that swings in its own accord
that pierce into my soul,
and carve out a hole
Eccentric, you
Carried away by the river of your soul
Into a fathomless abyss of fantasy
And you swim with the demons in that void
And rule king and decree
If they live or die
you’re never clear, you’re never explainable
Your hair creeps down your knees, and you don’t care
With no sense of time, you sit in your chair
Engrossed in your void of abstruse sight
That chasm of immortal delight
Why? You, like a fearful knight
Are you some angel in the air of a sprite?
Your body dies, but you live in tranquility
Was what you ate in heaven, the fruit of eternity?
[...] Read more
poem by Aiswarya T. Anish
Added by Poetry Lover
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