Do I just write poems?
Or am I a poetic person?
I don't talk poetic.
Don't feel it.
Poetic sort of finds me.
Where the need is
Obsessed with witty rhyme schemes
And I'm bleeding
When emotions cut me
Words are freeing
Words are blood and vein
When I tune my brain
To believing
That now is poem time
What a time to be poetic
Is poetry more than rhyme?
Can I define it's ceiling?
Can poetic be my lifestyle?
My (breath) breathing?
Or is it just a poem to me?
Break a leg
Falling off the poem tree
Struggling
To grasp its meaning
A philosopher
Embodies philosophy
But do I
Embody poetry?
Can you see it?
In the way I fold my clothes
Can you hear it?
In the way I crack my bones
One finger at a time
Two fingers at a rhyme
Can you feel it?
The way I express my soul
Underneath your skin
Undearneath it?
Are these...
Just poems to me?
Or is it just me
Living poetically
One page to the next
An ink train for my breath
Searching for readers, every station
Braving comments of rejection
Apologising for delays
Apologising for congestion
Apologising for the way
My poem had too many a question
Till I'm unapologetic
And it's take it or leave it
Wondering why you're still standing
When there are so many empty seats
Wondering why you're here again
When I gave you your receipt
Wondering why you find this journey
Worthy to repeat
When I'm still wondering
Whether these poems
Are hidden parts of me
Or
Just poems
YOU ARE READING
Shades & Shadows
PoetryExploring the intensity of duality through poetry, life, death and everything in between.
