MY STORY
Let me tell you a story from my present life
Move back to the days , yet to be a wife
Years I rewind and take you to my school
My teacher yelling, “You think I am a fool”.
An adamant ass I, was kicked out of the class
Her shriek “incorrigible” vibrating
the panes of glass
The fight always was, why should I listen to her story
When my mind was cooking within
stories to her’s contrary
It was not exactly poetry but her attitude that I hated
The anger within, put poetry in the list,
marked third rated
Kept my mouth shut in the rest of her classes
What to expect from a seasoned spinster with thick glasses
Poetry was shoved under carpet for the rest of my life
Cut it right out of my life using my mind as a sharp knife
Told myself this subject was not meant for me
Felt myself the odd one who never could rightly see
When 58 was my age it magically leaked out
Made me read two poets, again under the carpet it got
Liked both the poets, they mystically got tuned to me
They made me read them and then again set me free
At 61 the master player made me to write
I took what came my way chewing with small bites
Poet they may call me, it means nothing to me
What I have observed here, is what I had to see
No longer do I feel that I am the odd one out
There are many like me good actors in this lot
It hardly matters, if you don’t understand
poems here
All you need to do is click on a like here and there
What enters your head give a short praise to cheer
Common words cover all poems
and their precious contents dear
Poetic freedom exists in understanding poetry too
A serious poem in some eyes turn into limericks too
Improper punctuations lead to drastic change in meanings
Leave the punctuation to readers, let them do the dreaming
One strange thing I noticed, thoughts of a particular period
With time change their meaning ,for the other poets and the readers
You might laugh at me, I question myself what I had meant
When my own poems I read , meaning changes, not as was sent
These strange things happen to poems of divine
Not the ones stirred in pans and cooked to look so fine
Now nearing 62, many mysteries are solved
My teacher was not wrong and neither I who was involved
He has a strange way of teaching me his lessons well planned
With years I love him more, my place booked in his land.
©sunita grover raina2021
18/11/21
India
Photo credit net
