My Tryst With Poetry

Somebody I know sent me a number of endearing images and asked me to pen a poem but, try as much as I can, had to dash his wishes to nothingness for I have never been to conjure a poem. A description tethered by rhyming words, encompassing all that must be conveyed in a few sentences has never been my forte and the very task seems daunting. I did, without any measurable success, write a couple of couplets, in the past, only to crush them into paper balls lest I be lynched by poets for being terribly horrible. Moon and June, trees and bees, how miserably I lack the aptitude, the magic every poet is blessed with! And how I envy their genius! To capture my rambling thoughts and the intermittent stream of words into lines that rhyme only make it too morose a time. Oh, I did manage to rhyme.

As much as I like poetry, I have found greater solace in prose, in descriptions that spill from page to page, of stories within stories within stories, of long-winded sagacious accounts, of tales that only seem to wander directionless hither and tither and come together much later as an amalgamation of a story so enthralling. This has had a profound influence on my writing. I have never been able to shackle my thoughts in my writing, the ceaseless spluttering of words, the unchained imagination, all leading to gargantuan stories so much so that many a person has asked me to condense them into smaller sentences. How do I, I ponder. How must I moderate my words and retain the pertinence of the vividness that envelopes me, that incite and inspire me? If only I had the ingenuity of Wordsworth or Frost! Until I chance upon that day, I, much to the chagrin and annoyance of many, continue to be eloquent in my long-winded ways.

JM, if you are reading this, I will do justice to your wonderfully clicked pictures. They speak to me of a stillness I find comfort in, of solitude that attunes itself with my solitary self, of a serenity that rushes through my veins calming my aching soul of a pain I am unable to decipher, of an escapade that I seek. All I desire is to wade through this cacophonous world, in the little blue boat rowing in all my glory, far beyond the horizon into an indescribable peace calling out like a siren enchanting me in her mystical song.

Blue Boat

Image credits: J. Mitra


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