Editor: Mrinali

We’ve tried it.

Making our poems beautiful.

Filling in the meters and the feet and the rhymes.

We’ve tried it.

Making our poems make sense.

With morals we are foreign to.

We live our dreams in poetry,

Because we’re afraid the echoes may not return back to us.

We sometimes write as we see, enliven as we breathe.

And does it always make sense?

We’ve tried structuring our poems.

But if art be reality,

Why rub it against such shiny shimmering skins?

We want pauses and junctures.

We want dashes.In every creation there is a silent thirst for a voice.

Aren’t we afraid we’d let our heads hush it with the war noise?

Let us spill coffee in our white paper sometimes.

Let the stain speak more poetry than words?

Let us put up failed drafts of poetry in museums.

With all the scribbles and the scrubbles.

Yet adore it as art.

Let us write a word, and just leave it there.

We’ll hope there is someone who will understand everything,In just a word.

Let us begin in cursive, yet be okay to end in sleepy letters.

We cannot structure it.Life so far has taught us just that.

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Hi. I am Achet Longchari, a literature student from the University of Delhi.

I write to communicate the throbbing songs of creation by adhering to the ‘Observe and Write’ principle. A lover of Jesus, an admirer of Wordsworth, and a friend of imagination. Poetry is my testimony.

Instagram- https://www.instagram.com/creationsofthe.heart/

Email- odangchetlalong123@gmail.com