Poems are our honesty that we can sing.Poetry, or for that case all forms of creation, are one of the ways, human meets the superhuman.They are not written.They happen.Just like a childbirth, there is a moment of singularity when you conceive a verse.Then you nurture it in your soul.It grows with you, and then one day it takes a form… written or spoken.Once it has a form, it is free and so are you.It is painful.Like all forms of creation, it begins with a chaos and ends in light.Just like a childbirth.This is why in the Hindustani tehzeeb of Shayari, the poets plead you to listen to them by saying “Arz kiya hai”.That is all that a poet really wants.To be heard.Nothing makes one a poet.Just like clouds have rain, everyone has a poem, waiting to precipitate.But it is elusive...Finding that poem, is finding rain in the cloud. No one can.We have to become the poem.There is either rain or the cloud.It needs an ascension, for the clouds to become water and poets to become poems.A jolt, a thrust, a toss into the open skies.It is in those ramblings, we meet our song.Some of us have the words to express them and some have none.But all of us are poets nonetheless.Poems are My honesty that You can sing.
Picture Courtesy : Egon Schiele , Self portrait with black clay pot, 1911, Expressionism
