The Journey of a Poem
My mind is benumbed, its transfixed
On a thought overly underrated.
I am writing of a phenomenon of
I want people to adhere to my poetry,
Like Milton did his study
bringing about hordes of sonnets
& a Paradise Lost in Parts Twelve
I want to be revered like once was Gandhi,
Like Bhakts did religion;
will keep doing religion.
I want to be praised for my words
to be shaped like Shakespeare's
or like that of the great Tharoor's
But I regret every second of every time
that I start typing, start indulging in the
dead thoughtless music of my TVS Gold keyboard,
This music, which can even go for music
I look for Words, Phrases.
I open books, tomes, dictionaries
and even thesauruses of the whole world
& not one page, a para or even a word,
comes to the aid.
I remain illiterate of 'Big Words' and
cutely ignorant of cute visions.
I bang my head in absent mindedness
after having found the word, after
having traced back the word
from the Ocean of the Internet.
The abysmal starts turning fine,
judging the presence of dignified words,
the rigid memory perturbed,
the insanity turns back to insanity
& the meaningless dissolve into meanings
To provide even more complex, unforged and unforgibeable thoughts.
It comes back to the poetry and
makes it tough enough
to enter the ranks of weirdness
the ranks of greatness.
When it reaches the people
It gets criticised,
When the people say they long for
When these Everestly complex words,
make them turn the poetry into
critically acclaimed, then
will I see in it 'A Sense of Greatness?'