Strewn are metaphors we squeezed off the night, seeking poetry
Look how they stay sequinned from the poet, spurning poetry
We bled the alleys of the heart for a muse gone astray
Won’t you tell us when you sight a song evading poetry?
Blossoms are said to keep lyrics well veiled in their bosom
When asked, they parted their lips and laughed; confusing poetry
Trills landed light, but alas, on the wrong side of our quill
Even birds look askance at rickety poets chipping poetry
Poets who have stirred the wide world wild with their potent potions
Did they often squat by their empty pots, stirring poetry?
Perhaps they stoked their fire to ignite revolutions
Our heart croons to the hearth in its bid to kindling poetry
Embers of embellished thought smoke and curl into the sky
Burnt to ashes, we are left behind, breathing poetry!
Anju Kishore