Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Ananya Chatterjee writes




Recipe

You have to
begin slow..
pucker your lips
and gently blow
the top soil of
practiced virtue.
Then, dig your heart..
take it apart..
until you hit
the filthiest grime..
the purest evil.
Let it trickle
down bones
and veins.
Let it horrify
your fingertips
and turn them blue
with birthing pain.
Then, and only then,
with screaming wounds,
and hurting insides..
the first cuss-word
you gently write..
becomes
Poetry
Image result for the birth of poetry paintings
The Birth of Poetry -- Hebbar K.K.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Join the conversation! What is your reaction to the post?