Do poems grow on poetry?

They say poetry is dying when the greater truth is poets are alive but not really kicking. They don’t want to succeed anymore. The desire to make one’s presence felt has diminished and that is indeed worrying. One doesn’t have to be a literary eagle to observe it happening not only in the offline world (where poets are an endangered breed anyway) but also the online one (where poets are few as usual but more pretentious than required). This imbalance hasn’t helped the case because poetry as a sustainable art form has morphed into a pitiable myth. If only more poets with good poetry to back them up exhibited a strong stronger reaction to mediocrity. Remember when a Nobel laureate went on to appreciate Eminem’s body of work saying that the white rapper is doing a great service to poetry? This was last decade and i thought both were kidding. Turns out they weren’t because they knew what was needed to keep an art form from dying. The people and the poems should rhyme. If that doesn’t happen, then what’s the point? Gulzarsaab has written some of the most beautiful poems ever but chances are you might not have read them. You know why? They were published and not converted into songs. Hard luck, yes. It’s not like poems can’t survive without music but we are at a point of era where we are least interested in the ones who give us words. We don’t wish to know how an emotion can marry metaphor and leave happily ever after. We’ve reached a point where people attend reading sessions but are evidently afraid to read out loud their poems. In such a damp scenario, the real slim shady stands out for his courageous self-pity and bitching semi-originality. 

An ear-opener

Did you know that the W in wrinkle/wrist is silent the way it is in wrong? I didn't. I continued to remain ignorant enough to lick the poor W along. It was only after moving north (I'm so glad i don't use the word Gurgaon although there's nothing silent in it, especially after what happened in NH10) that i realized i take too much leeway with my pronunciation. And we aren't even talking about tricky words like denouement, subtle, Seuss, GIF, missile, Xiaomi, schedule, forte or reservoir. I mean the basic ones like ruined, Luke, truth, conscience, dude, creatures, fragrance, jinxed and ilk (no, not this word, i already knew it). This is like my entire life has been a sham! Seriously. Being shy, i remember keeping my voice to myself. But in the meantime, i kept uploading words into my big fat vocabulary without crosschecking the exact sound they are supposed to make. This must be the reason why my reading/speaking skills are so fucked up. Forget rarer terms like vacillation, propensity, atavistic, onomatopoeia, pulchritude or somewordthatisrestrictedtodictionary, i'm learning new stuff with every passing day up here. It's an amazing experience but i need to brush up my pronunciation before spitting another word in public. And for someone who is designated as communication specialist, that's the least one can ask for.  

Birthday girl

The white flower placed over her ear

greets you even before her face does the same;

Some personalities are loud, some insane,

Many are considered few amongst the rest,

Some are overlooked nonetheless.

But she's neither of them: unique yet not subtle.

She talks with the command of an age she hasn't grown yet

— youth and life and pain and strife and truth;

In any case, you end up listening to what she has to say.

It's difficult not to pay attention when her questionnaire makes your day!

There's a mischievous laughter that echoes

despite her words not intending so.

Maybe that's the beauty of an innocent soul, 

coiled inside that cast of a tough modern girl.

The classic maternal touch is evident like a 24-hour sun

When she feeds you while you pretend to be famished,

or about to die

and even when you're not.

All you've got to do is ask and whine a bit,

her drawer never disappoints you.

Like her heart and eyes, it's always full...

Perhaps finding a friend with food is oasis personified.

Perhaps finding a good friend today is life personified.   

NB: This doggerel (if you don't wish to call it a poem) is dedicated to Avantika, a dear friend and a lovely colleague.