POEMS...and me?

By the Sea

Watching the vermilion
Lose itself in the horizon-
I stood by the sea
Alone and lonely.
Seeking life's meaning-
Probing and searching
When along came a loud wave
And gave me a firm shake
Returning me to reality
Miles away from eternity-
Reality; life to be lived
And by fate be deceived.
Deception, rejection,
Outlet of emotions.

Purely painted

I robbed off
Its virginity-
In search of
My escape;
Dreams, illusions,
Reality-
All with which
I adeptly faked.
In the parameters of
I, me, myself
I was confined,
Entwined-
And it kept seeking help;
My canvas, my media,
My being it defined
How could I free it,
I wooed, won; I own.
It blossoms with ideas
Of the seeds I had sown.
It frees me, it reflects,
With me, it relates

The Evolution of a Poet

Paper in front, pen I grasped,
Wow! At my thoughts how I had clapped.
I wanted to write a poem-
Yes, yes; a thunderous poem
That would speak volumes on-
Dear, dear, the problem began.
I had no subject, no topic-
The thought itself was highly critic.
A poet who looked like one,
Whose specks a headband had become.
Who already had a pseudonym,
But alas! Not the least poetic instinct!
Love, life, humour, self-pity,
Fantasy, nature, maturity, beauty-
Oh! The range was wide,
Yet, why couldn't I firmly decide?
I realized I knew nothing in full-
The great poet was just charged,
Like a raging, over ambitious bull.

She merely wanted lines that rhymed,
She wanted herself to be well defined.
But poems are not written,
To reach pre determined destinations;
They are lines that express-
Vivid, genuine imagination.
They come from within,
Willingly, spontaneously;
Unlike me, the great poet,
Who leashed them out forcefully
Maybe, some clear, fine day-
'A great poet she is'
People will say.
Not for the words-
That she merely makes rhyme,
But for the emotions,
That evoke in those lines.
And still, over ruling conditions
A poet will evolve-
This today an amateur,
Solemnly resolves.

My Quarter Half

Ah! My illusions and me-
How happy together were we
With dreams and daisies,
And bubbles rising at ease.
With angels, with mermaids,
And paths of hope they laid.
With freedom of expression-
In fact, with all His creation.
Across vast blue skies,
Breaking beneath: bondages and ties,
Oh! How high we had flied
My illusions and I
With wings that are clipped,
With every desire whipped;
Restrictions imposed on imagination,

Emotions far surpassed by reason.
With smoke and soil,
And a long day’s toil
All that remains,
Of us together;
Each to the other-
A question mark,
A stranger.
I’m lost, all alone,
Not even tears, my own.
Eclipsed now is my-
Self and soul;
By pain; by reality-
As a whole.
Ever again will happy be we?
Searching each other unendingly,
My illusions and me