Us

Yours was a miscalculation

A defiant strategy

To customize death

 

A normal suicide

 

In the streets of my wintered town

I find many of your rivals

Straying sentences onto shopkeepers

Using intellect for bargain

 

Yours was a method

A realization

A scribble which looked different

On every different wall

 

What others frame as poetry

 

Is what we searched deeply

Not only in bookshops

But also in sewers

In butcher’s eyes

In the garbage of law makers

In the peeling promises of calendars

And more often than not

In the shadows of blank pages

 

Words were our only excuses

To knock at the wrong doors

At the time of the night when it’s already another day

But it’s still night

 

Ours was an experiment

Better failed than never

Nevertheless

A strong statement

For people such as us

 

We used to be writers

And classified individuals

Only till the time

Our fingers turned mute

And our pens were our only organs

To escape from one brain to another

 

It is now that I understand

Yours was a poem

And mine was a cluster

Of half felt meanings and verbs

 

Like reeds touching water

Neither blind nor deaf

But just about there

 

 

Reviews

[EMW]

This was very good. Makes me really stop and think.

[Bette]

well done, wonderful read.. i took it many ways as probably was intended.

[Miss Coral]

This was a great read... I especially loved the last two stanzas. The imagery that you have here, the phrasing and word choice, they're beautiful. I love how you spoke, the tone you had and kept... Great write.

[Ruth]

This is wonderfil, realisation at its most moving and best!
I love it!
A poignant write that moves the reader! xx

[Angel Veselinov]

Great and touching poem really got into my head. Very relevant to the heading as well :) Thanks for sharing :)