Poem: Misplaced Poet
By Dr. Archan Mehta
Mild readers:
I began writing
Poems, as a baby,
With out help,
With out encouragement,
In a land, Ahmedabad,
As barren because the moon,
A cultural wasteland.
Thus,
A wasteland of
Tears was my childhood:
I used to be a prisoner
Trapped inside the
4 partitions of a room,
Faculty and school,
And with none
Hope of escape.
As a substitute, from my cage,
I’d usually dream
In regards to the wild, blue
Yonder: the outside
Which held ardour
Within the type of solar,
Heat, and honey.
Most of all,
I needed to be a farmer,
As rustic as inexperienced onions
And crimson tomatoes
And apples and olives,
However I used to be informed to review
Engineering and drugs
Or, by default, find yourself
As a crooked lawyer.
As a way to categorical
This predicament, I
Began writing verse,
At that tender age,
When experiences
Are nonetheless harmless
And the fertile creativeness
Can plant roads, highways,
Santa Claus and tooth-fairies:
That was after I turned
Right into a poet with a lament.
Surrounded by enterprise sorts:
Petty shopkeepers and inventory
Merchants and academicians
Extra fascinated with minting
Cash than scholarship:
These impolite and crude individuals
Burned holes in my delicate pores and skin.
Certainly, I used to be the lone warrior
Who labored greatest at evening,
Or early within the morning,
And I sought my very own
Firm and held
Palms with the
Human creativeness
And aesthetic grace,
A dreamer amongst
Business and
Materialistic and
Consumerist beings:
Thus, I grew to become the
Laughing inventory
Of the plenty who
Had no appreciation
For artwork nor artists.
Mild readers:
It was a lonely battle
To place pen to paper
And to precise
This dormant
Impulse to create.
I didn’t categorical
Chilly and metallic emotions,
However feelings borne from
The ache and struggling,
Via years of isolation
And being ruined by
A merciless examination system
Which knew no compromise.
If solely I had been left
To dry moreover clouds,
Solar, moon, and bushes,
Creatures of nature,
And the unmistakable
Feeling of recent and inexperienced
Grass rising beneath
Your ft as you walked
Alone on a splendid seashore
Close to the ocean with a breeze
Caressing your cheeks gently:
As you buried your ft deep
Into the moist earth, sand:
It positive felt like paradise.
**********
Dr. Archan Mehta has earned a PhD. in Administration. Presently, Dr. Mehta is a Freelance Author and Marketing consultant based mostly in India. Through the years, Dr. Mehta’s inventive work has been featured in quite a few publications in India, U.Ok., USA, South Africa and the Center East. In his free time, Dr. Mehta likes to walk within the outside, social gathering with shut pals, hearken to music and keep on prime of present occasions. Dr. Mehta can be keen on meditation. Please be happy to succeed in out to Dr. Mehta at
