A Poem I Am... by Sharmila Mitra at Spillwords.com
Aaron Burden

A Poem I Am…

A Poem I Am…

written by: Sharmila Mitra

@SharmilaMitra3

 

As the years are being wrapped up
like bales of hay or grass,
sun-warmed and sweet-smelling,
I feel that I am perhaps changing
into a piece of poetry,
beautiful not in flesh but in the art of living,
my eyes with the gleam of clear teardrops reflecting sun, moon, stars;
my lips hiding a sweet smile behind the curl of disillusionment.
When I am gone to play with my lovely gone fur-babies,
a few words will be seen scattered here and there,
in a gravel road, on grass, hanging on a cable with drops of rain…
or crushed to a fine dust under a poet’s shoes,
while he has no idea that he has stepped
on a dead poem’s petals.
But I shall only fly in with crisp mornings and
fly out with deep red sunsets,
happy to be a blur amidst heaps of clouds…
I may come down as a rain drop and sit on your eyelash for a moment;
you may wonder what makes you want to weep!

Sharmila Mitra

Sharmila Mitra

Sharmila Mitra, a former senior school English teacher, lives at her 85-year-old ancestral home in Kolkata, India. She lives with her mother, going on 80, and the remaining thirteen non-human members of her family---dogs and cats rescued from Kolkata roads and adopted as children. Poetry has always been her interest, but during her teaching years, as she grew and learnt with her young adult students, she began to take her creative thinking outside her classrooms. She has a few awards won at international writing competitions, and two volumes of poetry, to her credit. She picks her themes from what life throws at her.
Sharmila Mitra

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