Tuesday, 20 December 2016

I can't write a poem.

I can’t write a poem tonight,
I went outside and took some pictures,
And my right shoulder is aching.
I can’t write a poem tonight,
My brain is too full: I’d rather
Write something really really (really) long,
So that people know what I’m thinking about—
Not that that’s interesting; who I’m thinking about
Would be more enticing to read
And to know, quite frankly.
I can’t write a poem tonight
Because pouring myself out would be so much easier
Than freezing myself into short lines
(They read like stubble, not a long, flowing beard.)
You should know that you’re the one
Who made me want to capture in prose again
You’re almost like a plucked marigold flower—
It hurts a lot, but you still love helping people;
And sometimes it hurts me that you’re hurting.
I can’t write a poem tonight,
I’m thinking about you:
Not that I mind.
~Vruta Gupte.

~ migration.

Dear Reader, (If anyone has happened to chance upon this rather not-so-very-secret diary of mine) it is my simultaneous pleasure and occa...