The Poets.

It has been a while since I wrote any poetry, but clearly, something in me was unlocked this weekend and now I am full of good ideas. This poem, much like ‘Loving Words For A Memory‘ is about coming back to an idea of peace that you want to be selfish with. There is peace that you’d like to share with the people in your life, the people you love, and then there is the kind of peace that you want to keep all to yourself because it is something that is truly your own.

The more I think about it, the more I begin to understand why so many poets wrote about escaping to a place where they could just do what they loved in peace. It almost sounds like they had everything figured out. I may not have it all figured out yet, but this poem is very much something personal.

Happy reading! Xx

I wandered into the endless,
No intent to walk the path home,
A heart soaring,
And blood roaring
In my ears, much like the wind,

Humming me lullabies and melodies
Of the poets long gone,
The world unkind to dreams,
Unmoved, glued to reality
No allure, no love for the unknown end

And I,
I let myself play pretend,
For a moment so fleeting,
It feels untrue—
But with the world at my feet, I have to,

Lest I wake tomorrow
And this is but another whim,
I’d etch the moments in my very being,
Let me lose my way home,
Let me play pretend.

And the poets,
They were right to seek peace,
In the midst of their own madness
Away from the world,
With none but solitude for company,

Cruel voices in my head silenced
By the vast expanse of greenery,
Not a soul for miles,
No climb too high
For all that my heart could take;

‘The poets have us fooled,’ I say,
There’s no Heaven within reach,
What lie beyond the looming clouds
Are the unwritten stories,
Waiting to be discovered—

To be written and immortalized,
Etched on tombstones
Of the ones that came before us,
Of the ones that left words behind,
The poets had us fooled, but they were right.

For serenity lies in the solitude,
In the peace and quiet
Of endless silent nights,
The poets sought an escape,
And they were right—

Should I run away,
Leave the world I know behind,
Walk the road that has been
Carved by the ones that did before me,
In shoes too big for my feet,

Promise me you’ll let me go,
Keep my words alive,
Look for me behind the hills,
Away from the world,
Trying to play pretend,

I’ll be just another poet
Writing about the world unkind—
Hidden, embraced by the clouds,
I’ll leave no trace behind,
And my words are all you’d find.

~© Shubhangi Srinivasan.

Featured Image by Chris Barbalis on Unsplash

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