A Poem on Love
Out of all the things I am afraid of
The one thing that terrifies me the most is the idea of
me not writing a poem on love
So, how do you write a poem on love?
From which dictionary do you find the exact words to express
the feeling of being in love?
How many lines would be enough to sum up the mystical
feeling that runs the humankind?
How many synonyms shall I use for love which itself shows up
in numerous ways?
Shall I only write about the glories & grand gestures of
love?
Or shall I write about the dark pit where lovers fall into
when the love itself slips away?
How will I ever write about love when half of the population
is either infatuated, lustful or just looking for something casual?
How will I ever write about love when the dating apps are swarming
in the number?
How will I ever find that kind of love on which thousands of
poetries are already written?
Where will I ever find the perfect love story on which bollywood movies are being made?
Will I ever I find a perfect love or a right person to write a love poetry on?
“You never meet right people at the wrong time because right
people are timeless” they say.
I agree, partially.
But again, the inquisitor in me never fails to fill my brain
with numerous queries.
Is there really such thing as perfect love?
Do such thing as right people really exist?
How does one exactly measure the rightness of a person?
Is there any yardstick to measure the perfect love?
Love is neither Van Gogh’s starry night nor Da Vinci’s Mona
Lisa,
On most of the days, it’s like an old canvas filled with black,
blue and green by a kid.
Love is neither Murakami’s masterpieces nor the sonnets by Shakespeare
It’s like half written verses of a person sinking in a slump
who is unsure of calling himself a poet.
Love is neither an equation of your math book that has to be
right nor the titration of your chemistry lab that has to be pink,
Love is circles drawn by shaky hands and maybe an output of
an imbalanced chemistry equation.
Love is not always a garden full of daisies,
Sometimes it’s just wild flowers swinging in a barren land
with no fear of getting plucked.
It’s neither a gourmet dish cooked by a Michelin star nor a
glass of red wine,
Sometimes it’s a dish cooked with lots of efforts yet lacking
a pinch of salt in it.
Love is never perfect, no matter how much Bollywood portrays
it to be.
Humans are perfect neither, no matter how much they brag
about it.
We all are full of ebbs and flaws and all we crave for is a
right space,
A space where we can put down all our rights and wrongs and
still accept each other, unapologetically.
That's why they say a diamond with flaws is much precious than a stone with perfection our imperfections make us lovely..... lots of love 💓
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