Where the mind is free.

Story of every teenager.

Where the mind is free.

I have been
interpolated, interjected and interrupted
since I took up the pen between my fingers.
Beating my brain to concentrate:
in today’s world it’s the hardest;
exorbitantly convoluted.


Every second your cell phone beeps,
revealing a doleful story someone has said.
You sigh, you read, you think
‘tis been your story once.
Life changes in a stance amongst
commotion, where silence gently weeps.


Decrepit ramifications lurk.
You look for a moment of solitude
with hot steaming mugs of coffee while
beholding the beauty of the globe.
Sheer emancipation and hope
for a free mind, betwixt liberty and work.


Time impetuously becomes The Gamer
purveying a quaint impression
of ourselves, in eyes of complete strangers,
its human tendency to be the cynosure,
not realizing, it corrupts our reason
for existence into a cadaver.


Picture yourself beyond shackled liberation,
in a world where the mind is free,
free from carnal attractions,
exempted from accumulated remorse
of running only for a win, rendering
your childhood in utter demolition.


Damaging my thoughts on freedom,
here comes my mother’s shrill cry,
reminding me of the consequences
of not distinguishing in academics:
Ah, I wish for a free mind,
to pour more about my imaginary dukedom.

Reviews

[emili37a]

What an amazing poem. It exactly expresses what I feel when I want to free my mind through art, building imaginary castles within.
"You look for a moment of solitude
with hot steaming mugs of coffee while
beholding the beauty of the globe."
and
"Life changes in a stance amongst
commotion, where silence gently weeps."
Lovely. Just lovely.

[Swapnashree Pani]

Thank you so much, dear !