I am not trying to influence you, the voice said
But isn’t it true that only a poet can make
sense of the everlasting pool of emotions,
the throes of passion,
the overflowing cup of love of another?
What would you say if i told you
I have felt like I have known you
even before I knew it.
Would you then tell me
I talk like a lunatic?
If I were to say, I can smell your skin
and that it is sweeter
than the sweetest nectar,
Would you call me a liar?
These eyes have grown tired and
felt refreshed at the same time
looking at your face that I have been
searching for and looking at from the inner eyes.
Is that possible?
I confess I am scared of you
Why? Because I tell you things
I can’t even tell myself.
I have dreamed of you
With my weary eyes
Travelled across thousands of galaxies
with no understanding of the concepts of space and time
Only to catch a glimpse of you
Perhaps to feel your touch
Your trembling palm on my throbbing heart.
Your parted lips quivering with aniticipation
as I outline them with my hungry fingertips
Are you the elixir of life?
Are you the unsaid words in my lines?
Are you the beginning and the end of my being?
Are you?
I know you will understand.
I am not a lunatic.
I am a poet
who finally found his poetry!

* As I was sorting the messes of my life last night, with the rising sun I found this old poem I wrote 6 or  9 years ago. Being unmindful forever I forgot but once I read the poem it became my most favorite one of all that I have written so far. Regards! Amit.

20 thoughts on “A Poet’s Poetry*

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