It’s been ages since I last wrote a poem. And when poetry happens, well, it just happens. It comes and sits by your side, nudging you to pick up the pen and write. Or get tapping on the keyboard. Whichever is handy.
Sometimes, poetry happens sans a consistent meter, pattern or rhyme. That’s free verse for you.
The singer/song writerLeonard Cohen once said:
“Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.” Nothing could be more apt. When we are in pain or torn by angst or when we see someone grappling through a torrent of raging emotions, the poet in us rises to the occasion.
And yet, what would life be, without these tormenting moments that make us bleed on the one hand and yet leave us open to enjoy a plethora of emotions through poetry on the other?
What is it that makes us relate to what another soul has felt at some point? Maybe, it’s the universality of our experiences, that we can connect to poetry, almost spontaneously. What do you think? Would love to know your response so feel free to share them in the comments below.
The poem I'm sharing here is in free verse: 'When the Storm Came.' The storm came and earth heaved a sigh, the leaves danced and petrichor wafted through the damp air, landing on my doorstep. I came into the open while the tea brewed. The rain washed over my face, as I ran my fingers over the scars from yesterday— yes, they still hurt. The waters gushed down into the crevices of my bare soul. And all the while you stood watching. Between us, a chasm of impenetrable silence. Feb 02, 2023 Bangalore
That’s all for today. One of the things I’d love to do this month is to explore and read more poetry. I’ll come back to share from some of my favourite poets in another post, very soon.
If you would like to share some of yours please do so in the comments below. I’m forever on the lookout to discover new forms and genres on poetry, which also includes translations from other languages.
On that note, I’m signing off. Have a beautiful week, everyone.
Something very alluring about the words, “washed into the crevices of my soul” – I can so imagine this feeling and the way you have related it to the falling rain, makes for an excellent reading feel.
I have been meaning to read poetry too but somehow never end up ordering poetry books. I can only remember Pablo Neruda and Javed Akhtar so far as my fav poets though there are some of Emily Dickinson too that are pretty overwhelming reads.
Thanks so much Shalini, for appreciating my poetry! It was written rather spontaneously and I’m so happy that you could relate to those lines.
There are so many hidden treasures in every form and style of poetry – i too love Neruda and Javed Akhtar a lot. Recently read a book of Maya Angelou’s works and it is so powerful and amazing.
The answer to the question – “what would life be, without these tormenting moments that make us bleed” is Life will be good and if that makes poetry suffer then let it be. Life should be without the tormentations.
“Earth heaved a sigh” – loved this line. Often felt this way about storms, but was never able to find the right words to describe. Today, you gave words to my feelings. 🙂
“Universality of experiences”, right? 😀
Wow! Esha, I loved your prose, and now I love your poetry, too! When was the last time you wrote one? Do share your old poems, too.
I can’t comprehend poetry very well, maybe because I haven’t tried expressing myself in verse. But I could feel the words you shared here. My favourite line is: The rain washed over my face, as I ran my fingers over the scars of yesterday—yes, they still hurt.