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Monday, 1 September 2014

The Poetic Voice

Dart Wounds Don't Heal

There isn’t much to say.
There isn’t much to do.
He came, he saw, he went away
It’s done. Adieu
I lay here open, for the world to see
Come trample and trod, spare me no mercy.
My armour is battered, it has seen too much
The clinks seep love, come on now, fill your cup.
Dart wounds, don’t heal.
The Messenger won’t listen to me
Too tired to really put up a fight.
She whispers softly,
“Dear Heart, don’t worry. We will be alright.


***
I am not a Poet but I do have these staccato bursts of pure literary knowledge where I can express myself better in figures of speech than simple sentences. I am comfortable talking figuratively because I don’t believe that anything in life is so fundamentally simple. It’s a different argument when we over complicate matters but I see complexity in every manner of activity, relationships, decisions etc. When I really put my head to it and wonder why I like expressing my emotions in stories or poems but not in direct materials like diaries or journals, I have just one answer. Maybe for me coming to terms with my emotions means that I have to face them directly but when I rather conveniently merge it into my work, Its hidden which means that I don’t have to confront reality because I have already discussed it in my work of fiction.
The power of words, the strength in a paragraph, just one sentence can move a crowd or start a revolution! That pen you hold in your hand can be ruling the lives of millions, the ink you spill on blank sheets today could save a life secure a future. There is so much to language, so much we are yet to understand. This poem is just words but words that store my emotion, sentences that bury my feelings but convey what I really want to say.

I am not a Poet. I just love to write. And if you just love to read then I hope this poem appeals to you :)