A Poet’s world

A poet lives on a rainbow.
When he descends
to write about the poor,
he fails to notice the tattered clothes,
or the stench of disease
in their sweat, in their breath –
he can only see a brave man
loved by the Gods.
The landscapes in his poems
are either sunrise or sunset
(preferably on a beach);
and when he writes of deserts
he misses
the fierce mid-day heat,
the searing sand,
the cacti and the scorpions.
The world of a poet
is rhyming, metered, musical.
His ears are not tuned
to register the jarring note
of jealousy and sarcasm.
He believes
that all laughter is joy,
and all smiles are honest.
Let us drag the poet
to a market and make him sit
with the ledgers, or the beggars;
let’s make him carry coal
on an empty stomach.
And in the evening, let’s take him
into the graying lanes
where the mobs feed on the innocents.
Let’s squeeze poetry
out of the poet.

About Abhishek

I will let the blog speak for itself...or, at times, for me. View all posts by Abhishek

6 responses to “A Poet’s world

  • sinithwar

    Tis not fair
    speaking thus far
    my dear friend
    I notice those of tatter
    for I wear the style
    of this year
    I watch as people starve
    and it burns
    in my heart and soul
    I resent your fluffy world
    for tis not I
    I am a poet
    I do not live in that world.

  • Rigel Ordinario

    So much truth in this. There just so many facets to the world, so many things that pique the poet’s interest. 🙂

    • Abhishek

      Absolutely. Today’s poetry is no longer fixated with love and beauty – it is revolutionary and wishes to create a better world. Normally I try to catch one emotion, one moment at a time, but then, sometimes I feel guilty, and write of the limits of poetry in helping the world.

  • jspruell

    Your thoughts come across as very honest.

    As for dragging a few poets to the market, those poets might just include a few politicians, a couple of sermons from the pulpit, the eager phrase of ‘whatever doesn’t kill you’……….. words that often miss mercy.

    Trying to be careful to not put words in what you have written (let’s hope not), or get crosswise with your thoughts, but I did find a simple honesty and truth in your poem that gave me pause to think.

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