I still vividly remember the day I wrote this poem. 7.15am on Bus no.315 going to college in the winter of 2006. I rushed to class, opened my book and let my pen flow. I never revise or edit or draft my poems. Poems are an extension of the poet. It must flow from your soul onto the canvas as naturally as perennial rivers born from the Himalayas. If it takes an effort, if it’s thought over, pondered over…then it’s not real.

This poem also earned me my first cheque for getting published in JLT.

The local bus rode speedily
I needed that speed
It gave me a chance
To compose myself
It was beautiful

The cold winter breeze hit my face
I closed my eyes & gave in
Everything now was crystal clear
The truth Vs the harsh reality
It was beautiful

I felt the need to be increasingly silent
I saw what I had never seen
That’s when I felt the morning sun
Sliding across my face
It was beautiful

Warmth filled me
As did hope
Within the depths of my heart & soul
I felt whole
It was beautiful

And all through this
My eyes were closed
And not a word was said

It was beautiful

Breathtakingly beautiful

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.