A poem about poem writing

I wrote this a long time ago when I was sitting in another school. I had gone there for a competition and the enterprising driver who was to drive us back had vanished. So I was sitting bored for quite a while, when I remembered that I'd planned to write a poem like this. Here it is, so do tell me what you think!



A poem about poem writing


There's this thing that I want to do
Which I haven't tried in a while
Though it's something close to my heart
Even attempting it again seems futile

I'm talking about writing a poem
It's one of my favourite arts
Maybe not something formidable
But I'm finding it hard to start!

There are plenty of things I know and see
Lots of thoughts inside of me
But as I sit here is this cool breeze
Which ones to leave and which to seize?

I look out the window
I see the tree tops and the birds
I leaves fly and clouds pass by
I see a fresh and many coloured earth

I look out the door
The street lamps stand still and cars move on
Feelings of hope, dejection, joy and sadness travel the roads
Carrying things or travelling without, people walk on

I look around me
Things I can feel but not touch exist
Air, breeze, smells, love, hate, yells
Invisible as they are, they touch me

I look in my mind
It's thoughts, ideas and plans I find
Facts, knowledge and my daily grind
With logic, judgement and their kind

I look in my heart
Emotions, morals and ethics play a part
While higher thoughts and fantastic hopes scheme
To fuel my life and dreams

What shall I choose to create?
What can I write that will be great?
With so many things everywhere
I hope wealth of experience and things to express will give rise to another poem to share

  

                                                                      - Charu 

Random writing

This was a random piece I wrote last Saturday when I was in school with friends. It was raining nicely and my friends were busy laughing, chattering and clicking pics. I decided to try writing something. I didn't like it much at the time, but when I read it later, I decided to post it. What do you think?








thousands of drops fall. They live a short life falling and splashing away. Together they create a continuous flow and pattern. Seeping into ground and fanning out, small pools are their last tribute before moving on. Small as they are, we hear some of them but with our silence, they can't hear us. Laughter rings out, but the drops dance on. In continuous columns, they splash down, unknowing, unmindful, uncaring of our random chatter. The ground is their stage and the sky sends them forth, watching and leaving to train others. They don't care for human boundaries, what walls, doors and words we throw their way. they come and go as they wish, doing what their ancestors did, until they're reborn to try again.

A quick post...

Just a very quick post to put up two new poems I found. Let me know what you think!




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The panther - By Rainer Maria Rilke




His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly--. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone. 

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Autumn song - By Sarojini Naidu



Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,
   The sunset hangs on a cloud;
A golden storm of glittering sheaves,
Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves,
   The wild wind blows in a cloud.

Hark to a voice that is calling
   To my heart in the voice of the wind:
My heart is weary and sad and alone,
For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone,
   And why should I stay behind?