Art of Poetry

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When we read a poem first time, we try to associate it with our past experiences either of life or of
literature. In order to understand it we have to categorise it, to put a label on it. It is hard to do
otherwise, to look at it in a fresh way.

Some of us had bad experience of reading verse at school when it was pushed down our
throat by the teacher, in order to satisfy some academic requirements. We must overcome such bad
experiences.

There is more to poetry.

The trouble being that we are biologically and socially programmed to react in a certain way. In order
to be true to ourselves we must de-programme ourselves as to be more spontaneous and thus to look at
poetry and life more deeply.

Poetry being a literature of depth and thus strikes at the very root of our existence.
Let us look at poetry in a fresh way. I will use an example of my verse for such an exposition.

Art is a mirror in which the reader looks at her/his own soul. Please look at the structure of poem, the
words chosen to make the poem, the music of the language, the music of the words and lastly at its
contents.

It might open a new panorama of things beyond words.

Language is not a dead entity, it is alive. Poetry does not always lives in the past, it
belongs to the very present, beyond our stereotyped views and hackneyed phrases. Thus looked at, a new
beauty is born, reflecting deeper springs of life.

Ordinarily we say that trees are green but what is green-ness ? It is wider than colour of the trees. You
cannot describe it, it has to be experienced. Experience being individual, experience of so called ‘green-
ness’ will be different for each person and hence the experience of whole poem. One might say
that it is beyond physics, it is meta-physical.

I have tried to give you a small hint, a little pointer but you have to travel on the
road yourself and thus taste the reality yourself. It is just a signpost. Try to travel through
the entire poem in such a way.

Trees of Green

Trees of green
Flowers of bloom
Clouds of vapours
Streets of gloom.

Earth of wonders
Skies of gold

Sights of breath
Hands of fold

Dews of dust
Thorns of flesh
Raids of blood
On fingers of trust.