Oh, how poetry ceases to be found when happiness is.
The comfort, the exhilaration, the joy, all of it overshadows and suppresses all the aesthetics, all the intellect trying to pen down a poem. The feel is there, that sweet scent in the air present, but how do one find words for a perfect fit.
Well, Happiness itself is like poetry. It flows, lingers in the air a little and then leaves, leaving a pleasant memory. It’s sad that you can’t confine such a beauty to a piece of paper.
Heartbreaks stain rather quickly and beautifully to form patterns, divine. After all, pain and sorrow have that one element happiness lacks – a destination. Sorrow does flow like a painting, it spreads like ink on canvas.
I wish happiness was that beautiful on paper.
But all the words getting crushed just die out at the bottom of the lungs as a strong blow of wind gushes out as laughter leaving a crescent smile on the face; A smile so perfect that it would be a disgrace to ask, “Why?”
So the paper lies on the table, blank, with a few doodle around the corners and a few scratched-out broken letters letting it show, letting everyone know, “I am Happy.”
I hope every writer can relate.
So read one of my poems for a change – “Mind”
And as always, please don’t forget to Like, Comment and Share.
See you next time.