If you are a wise old man
Who can tell right from wrong
Someone who knows about life
And, everything else beyond.
If you are someone who can cherish
The beauty of nature and its sounds
And, can love endlessly,
Without being love bound.
Then, know that I look for you
To come and give me hope
For, my friend, I am troubled
And am unable to cope.
But, if you are young, naive
Like me, as is fated
You are tired of life and death
And, all things related
You’ve left many things behind
And, some things have left you
You spent your life collecting memories
And, now that’s all that’s left of you.
Then, know that you’re not alone
And, we can still get through life
Be my friend, I am troubled
For even that will suffice.
I hope our distances are forever measured in miles, and not in years.
We can never be part of a revolution. We live in crowds. We shout in whispers. We see through masks. The only ones we kiss are our deaths. The only deaths we face are our lives. Our existence, our presence revolves around the same axis as our absence.
We exist in boxes, we sleep in one, we walk in one, we are sick of one. But, we aren’t gonna break one, the box, for we are scared of living without it: alone, outside.
We are desperate, sad, needy people. We are begging for a revolution. But, we aren’t gonna get one. Not that we lack ideas. No. Only none of us, no one from us has the guts to start one. We can never be part of a revolution.
This poem, apart from being a NaPoWriMo poem, is a part of my two new poetry projects called wordbook and acrostic. Accordingly,this poem has two unique things: first, it has been formed by using all the words, that I was recommended to learn for my management entrance exams, and second, it is an acrostic poem, i.e. the first letters of each line, if read vertically form a phrase. The words that were mandatory to use for this poetry project have been italicized.
And I knew, she was different,
Low on spirits, but not introvert,
Teeming with esteem, yet not egoist.
Riding with confidence, yet not extrovert.
Under some balance, yet not an ambivert.
I knew, she had an air of goodness around her,
Something that shakes the beliefs of a misogynist,
Takes them on a retrospective journey.
Something that even changes the misogamist,
Hits the misanthrope, and arises introspection in egotist.
Elegant, yet not ascetic.
Who she was? You may wonder?
Ah, someone rare, yet not a blunder.
So, who she was, you may wonder and wonder.
Note than the first letter of each line when read vertically form the phrase: “Altruist She Was”.