The Practical Poet

[Nikunj Bansal]

It's not the fairy tale this time,

it's not melancholic tonight,

No angry rants and abuses hurled,

It's the simple pleasures of life this time. 

The lightness of being,

of ideating, and forgetting,

of small bursts of

happiness.

Moments that are unworthy of mention,

Moments that make an epic dull,

are the moments that fill up the life,

nothingness truly is everything. 

Desires still do play spoilsport,

Snow and Sun and Social Network,

Poems still lack that spark, that beauty,

that shines through my Lord's eye, the closed one. 

But I am flesh and blood,

equal measures of right and wrong,

My soul maybe my Lord's,

but my mind is of the world. 

And in this imperfectness, I find beauty.

In this chaos, I find peace.

In this deathly silence inside my head,

I find true bliss. 

And I am aware this will not last till morning.

Because in the rush, the voices will crop up still,

and nervousness and anxiety will hit the wrong spot,

and the doubts and worthlessness will crop their heads,

and the bamboo spoon will taste salty,

and the rice will upset the tummy,

the chair could have been more comfortable,

the net could have been faster,

the people could have been smarter, 

and the day could have been longer,

and I could be worse,

but I am lucky I found my verse.