A new acquaintance of mine came across this blog recently. Among all the posts, he thought my poems are a huge box of surprises. Some pleasant, some ordinary, some fleeting, some profound and some extremely touching, that is what he said. What touched me most was his remark "What makes you write like this, it is so unlike you!"
I have been wondering since then. There are a few moments when words flow with ease, like a river wanting no direction, no speed and yet there is this strange momentum which makes the lines worth a smile or a tear. On countless other occasions, I find not one word to pen down for the many things inside me craving for a say. All I do then is wait for that one right moment.
Poetry to me is mostly impulse which for reasons many comes with a lot of patience. It is about wanting to learn and wanting to write better every time I begin to write one. It is not the mood or the feeling, neither the meter or the rhyme. It is all about timing :-) If it matches with that of the reader's, nothing like it ;-)