blazeofglory
04-12-2008, 05:38 AM
Poetry is whittled out of nothing
We draw on sources in the memory lane
I am fed up with the usual
The ideal, the value, the prototype
Let us walk on an untrodden track
Let us venture in an unvisited domain
Flying on the wings of imagination
In quest of the land unheard of
We think in patterns, and
In the process we parrot the ideas of the foregone
Where is originality when we piece together the wrecks and fragements
I see only heaps of plagarized ideas
In substance Wordsworth, Donne, Eliot live through us
As we think in a box
Constricted
What we call originally our own is a sheer style and syntax
I really like to be out of the box
Through and through undo all I read and heard of
Maybe if I can borrow the manner a baby can think in
Link with a world that is otherworldly
Maybe I can be creative, words worth
Or else I settle on the castoffs
Called oftentimes pieces of poetry
We draw on sources in the memory lane
I am fed up with the usual
The ideal, the value, the prototype
Let us walk on an untrodden track
Let us venture in an unvisited domain
Flying on the wings of imagination
In quest of the land unheard of
We think in patterns, and
In the process we parrot the ideas of the foregone
Where is originality when we piece together the wrecks and fragements
I see only heaps of plagarized ideas
In substance Wordsworth, Donne, Eliot live through us
As we think in a box
Constricted
What we call originally our own is a sheer style and syntax
I really like to be out of the box
Through and through undo all I read and heard of
Maybe if I can borrow the manner a baby can think in
Link with a world that is otherworldly
Maybe I can be creative, words worth
Or else I settle on the castoffs
Called oftentimes pieces of poetry