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Unlock solutions to your love life challenges, from choosing the right partner to navigating deception and loneliness, with the book "Lust Love & Liberation ". Click here to get your copy!

Why This Poem?

Why This Poem?

2 mins
276


I gaze vacantly at the orange wall before me

It lists down the values and vision of my organization

The values that very few seem to follow here

The vision that gets changed when the leaders leave 

From time to time, these get replaced by my poems as well

Whenever inspiration strikes me in the middle of my work... 


I would be typing down a SQL script 

To unite two tables that exist in two different databases like a UN member

And the poem would show up on the orange wall 

Not like a fly, but more like a dragon

A dissected dragon to be precise

The theme, the titles, and the lines 

Would be scattered all over the surface… 

I would request the poem to wait till I finished the script

But it would not - It would, instead, behave like a corporate client

“Shall I visit your friend - the other poet - and offer him this?”

And I would leave my script midway, 

Open an empty MS-Word document,

And start typing down all the contents in a jumbled order

Trying to make sense of it for some time 

Before giving up that someone else would eventually make sense of it... 


Do you get that feeling after reading a poem 

That it makes very less sense

Which makes you think 

That perhaps you aren’t intelligent enough for its inner meaning? 

I get that thought for most of my poems 

Because they never feel like creations from me 

They always feel like stolen valuables from some other person - 

A person more emotional and intense than me

A person is more expressive and impressive than me... 


I gaze vacantly at the orange wall

As the dragon perches itself down 

Breathing fire now and then to rearrange the titles 

Swaying its tail now and then to reorder the lines...

I abandon my ‘Notes from the meeting’ mail to my manager 

And start noting down this poem

I don’t think much of it makes sense 

Or perhaps it’s my lack of intellectual maturity... 

But I know this much 

If I let go of this poem

The next one might not show up

Not as a fly, not as a dragon

And so here it is, and so here you are... 


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