Megh is Rainy Season Raga & can be play anytime of the day.
The first thing first all say. So let me say you all–
I’m not a gardener, not a farmer but a poet.
I want to write that challenge me, my thoughts.
But, this georgic…I can’t get it…how can I…
I have no interest in gardening or farming
I am interested in writing and only writing.
I can grow a tree, you know, though, on a second thought.
The leaves of it are made of alphabets;
Veins of each leave are words form with them.
The branches are the string of words–not sentence–
Sentence needs a discipline and these words queue
Needs to learn the discipline to be sentenced, not some runaways.
Sentences are the flower the tree, I’m growing, abode to.
I can grow a tree, you know, though, on a third thought.
I had, once, sowed some seeds into soil wet from monsoon rain.
A sparrow was having its eyes on me. So it dug it up and fly away.
I had to saw it standing at a distance, from my window,
I was ill that time after getting drench in the monsoon rain.
One day, few days passed, I found the sparrow dead.
Our gardener made that spot its undercroft.
Now, there stands a tall tree with sparrow in its soul–
Words are it leaves, sentences are the flower…
It chirps when the wind is a breeze.
You see, I’m not a gardener, not a farmer but a poet.
Today the prompt is a tricky one and challenging one. Georgic. I can opt for off-prompt (and I had does that I think), but, as I had said in the poem as a poet I like a challenge so I go for the prompt.
Now, this is not a Georgic but still, I’m calling it Georgic because the purpose of the poem how to take care of the agricultural process attract me and I used the outcome i.e. the tree.
This is a metamorphic poem where the thoughts are eaten up by sparrow i.e. that is past and its associate (depression, frustration, etc). The haunting get overcome when it buried under the things we like, for instance, here the poet started writing and thus buried the past and grows a tree which bears flower (sentences) and came out as chirp forming a song (poem) and spread it for others to listen (read)
Eyes were still heavy with dreams; the morning was half illuminated–
sun will rise w’in a few bits. My first cigarette of the day turned bitter, though,
freshly lightened as I saw you. There was a smile and silence ‘ween us. So many
things I want to share; so many words my craving soul yearned to be spoken
but nothing came out. The silence, the unsaid are our destiny I presume as my
soul still carry the burden of the haunted past depicted through my eyes
and you, pretty lady, could read that with your gifted womans’ extra sense.
A chance what I had asked for. You still haven’t responded. But, it does not
hurt, you know, it’s may be the craving to be with s’one has washed away or it
may be the demeanour of my soul, who has turned it face away from all these
things, all these ties with names as relation, love, trust, confession…
so I’ll not ask you one more time…take it as a statement from mine. I’ll wait
for your sayings, for your decision. Till then let the unsaid, silence speak…
Shorthand Used: W’in: Within; S’one: Someone
The poem is somewhere between being Angsty Love Poem and Sad Love Poem.
There she goes–slowly and steadily–I want to run and envelope her from behind…
Feelings we shared, is it there? Did we still love each other? Is this anger for the moment?
There she becomes one in the crowd. I stand in the morn sun trying to label my thoughts…
She came down from the car–drunk and careless–the door of the car closed instantly.
What’ll people call her now…what they’ll label her now…rain drizzling…traffic frenzied…
She moved aside to avoid cars…whore…prostitute…slut…what’ll be her label now…
He was strolling down the street with his servant–new and untrained–falling behind.
He had been asked many questions by him…He replied few…He needs to create labels…
He, after strolling, sat down to write hymns to teach his new servant…sad, anger, love…
#Ennead is a Noun & Rare word. It means a group or set of nine.
Daily Prompt: Label