Treasure Island

indira babbellapati

(visakhapatnam, india)

Burden of Writing Poetry


I'm trapped
In my own poetry;
Poetry morphed into
A crown of thorns
Adorning my head;
A cross I bear:
Each word, a nail driven
Into me to secure me...
Can no longer carry
This burden called life
Forever trapped...

Thrown into a murky hole
The hole is my connect
Food, air and water
Roll down the hole
Day and night are displayed
Through the hole;

Is Poetry
My clock
My vigil,
My guard,
My sustenance?

Submitted: Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, May 21, 2013

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Comments about this poem (Burden of Writing Poetry by indira babbellapati )

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  • Valsa George (5/30/2013 6:54:00 AM)

    At times poetry becomes a compelling obsession! Our mind grows sometimes agitated when it gets pregnant with ideas and words are incapable of expressing them through powerful linkage! ! A wonderful poem (Report) Reply

  • Swetha Vanakayalapati (5/25/2013 5:32:00 AM)

    trapped....yes! if not how can life resemble smartness with dignity....taking pride being a poet.
    hope u're doing good mam.
    uR iNDiAN (Report) Reply

  • Tirupathi Chandrupatla (5/24/2013 12:12:00 PM)

    Let poetry be a means to convey one's feelings. Let it be only a burden to the extent that one cannot hold them inside any longer. Nice poem. (Report) Reply

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