Sometimes I wonder,
What is poetry?
Is it the chirping birds
That wake me up every morning?
Is it the sound of the vegetable vendor
Who sings his sales calls?
The running water from my bathroom tap –
Is it poetry?
What is poetry? I reflect.
Is it the buzz of that lonely mosquito
Wooing me for its company?
Is it the hurrying spider
Forging its web on my window pane?
Or the dew droplets on the spiderweb
Glistening in the twilight Sun?
Is it the sound of conch from my neighbourhood
That marks the dawn of the dusk?
Is it the click of the switch
That lights up my room?
The Prussian blue night-sky
Wearing the shawl of stars –
Or the smell of jasmine
That enchants my courtyard –
Is it poetry?
Is it the breeze
That soothes my tired nerves?
Is it the motion of the ceiling fan
That hangs over my head?
The blinking of my eyes
Before sleep takes over –
Is it poetry?
Or is it the dream
That takes me to a forlorn land?
Sometimes I ponder,
What is poetry?
Sometimes I wonder,
What is poetry?