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Study life, study literature. Eat food. Lots of it.
Also, I use a lot of adjectives- working on that, so bear with me.

Friday, 10 May 2013

Poetry Day- #Rebirth

Poetry and I have always had a strange relationship, one of symbiosis, but rather harsh. We give and take from each other all the time, yet somehow I've never really felt free after writing poetry the way I do with prose. Maybe its me, maybe its the poetry. Its definitely not Maybelline.

Either way, this is a poem I'd written a couple of months ago, that is unlike anything I've written before. Before anyone else accuses me of this, yes the first line is inspired from Wilfred Owen's 'Strange Meeting', but the rest of the poem is all mine. I'm not going into what was in my head when I wrote this, you are free to speculate, comment, tear apart or appreciate. Any criticism is good.

P.S: if you haven't read 'Strange Meeting', do go read it. It is quite beautiful.


It seemed out of darkness I escaped,
Cut a corner to the Light.
Quenched His thirst for blood:
And woke into His Might.

The screeching tire could not contain me,
The scornful screams yet denied.
Let everyone else be compelled; but
The deafening dark I left behind.

Now apparent is His mercy.
A quiet rhythm is at play.
He is His own shadow; to see
For all those who under six feet lay.

Harsh as the Dark may be,
His task for it is in place.
For without the squelching darkness,
The Light is just a blinding haze.

The dark end was my beginning,
From the gossamer threads of ashes,
I rose out of the black;
Rest my flesh in slashes. 

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