Uninspired Musings

If I were a poet,

I'd wring tears from words,

inky blurred lines would run 

like crimson tides,

and perpetually flood the cream grounds of unlined paper;

I would build images,

make tangible each smell,

every sight and touch,

like the roughened smoothness of

an ordinary white wall,

or the smell of freshly buttered corn;

My words would be like

music suddenly blaring

in a silent room,

noise till the mind and heart beat 

in rhythm to it;

I would write long letters to my multiple lovers,

pretending love to none but one;

Then,

maybe,

my words would live on,

despite my efforts

to burn and destroy each block 

of plastic letter:

Another self-destructing attempt at creating immutable gold.

© Geetakshi Arora

April 15, 2014