I wrote a poem last week. Even though I wrote it I can’t claim it to be mine. As I had written in response to someone else’s poem. I don’t have enough words to express my gratitude to the poet for writing a poem a beautiful that it brought out response form a naïve like me. I felt as though the character he was referring to was non other than me and I could not retain myself from replying to him.
Words can’t express the feeling I had while writing the poem. I was in class nine then. The first time I went through the poem I could find no problem.
Thinking it was error-less I submitted it. But when the time came for me to write my name I was self-conscious. Hence I remained anonymous. Then I found mistakes with every reading the mistakes increased tenfold. Now I want to rewrite the entire poem. But there this sweet, warmth that I feel every time I go through my poem that makes it impossible for me to rewrite it.
Here goes my poem –
Anonymous said…
You got it
Terribly wrong
If you had but
Allowed me
In your field of vision
For a while long
You would have
Heard the correct version
For I had told my friend
I would gladly
Surrender the rest
Of my life
To be fed
With nothing but
Your lovely poems
– by Anonymous
