There’s something special about poetry. I just wrote one. And I realize it’s a story into making.However,when I opened up my ‘Poetry’ tagged posts, I notice that each one of them has a life.Each line, each word in all the poems that I’ve written breathes, and reach and scratch the rusted parts of my heart.
Not all of them ,of course, are my own stories, even if they have been written in first person. But I time-travel whenever I read one. I’m currently in my own nostalgia-blanket, recalling all the situations and stories that had made it so easy to draft such lines.
Having been lagging when it comes to writing these days,these poems also make me ponder whether I’m no longer creative. But then again I realize that poetry is not just a piece of writing.It has its own flow and own feelings,which a normal story cannot be converted into.
I fail to understand poems which are written by others and somewhere I believe it’s a writer’s ingenuity that he can hide his life in such intricacy of words-subtle yet so beautiful.