The tree bows above me
Hugs me warmly in its cool shade.
The branches criss-cross—
A netted hammock for my worries;
The sun shining through it,
Painting me gold and dark.
The river plays the different cymbals,
The wind on the flute
The insects buzz the bass guitar
The birds reach a chirpy crescendo
All playing to the rhythm of my hands,
Rustling through the grass
All playing to the beat of my heart.
The fishes swim in rows and tracks,
Definite sequences and co-ordinated paths.
Take a step back though—
A disarray of fluttering scales
Create a colourful chaos;
A haphazard regiment,
Marching through the complex simplicities of life.
These flowers can bloom away any gloom
For he who can cherish the company of a thousand buds
Can open his eyes one day
To witness this velvety, garlanded face of earth.
And revel in the silence
Away from the ticking din of his daily clock
To finally set free,
The poem stuck in his heart.
(‘Bliss’ is a series of Romantic Poetry; and effort to indulge in the poetic style pioneered by Wordsworth, Keats and Frost et al)
Image Source: ‘Taare Zameen Par’ (the poem was inspired by this painting)
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