
.
Isn’t trying to speak about poetry
As difficult as to wake up one feigning sleep?
It’s unfathomable how densely poets compact poetic spirit in time, but
As they recollect it incessantly,
It must overwhelm the listener like a high tide.
“Chalam’s “Savitri”, perhaps, has come to life
Not out of his pen, but out of such voice.
Maybe, even ‘Poetry’ becomes poetry
Only when what swells up at heart finds expression
restive to stay quiet within.
Isn’t dreaming about poetry every hour
Like conferring Laureateship on him to a poet?
How wholly poetry churns out the heart !
To tributary the grace of words audibly
From the barrage of heart
To the attentive ears in front
Over his batting eyelids, channeling
Through the corrugated movements of the brow,
varying according to the tonal fluctuations;
To swish the sword of poetry
From the dense cumulus clouds of heart
Onto the parched terrains of people like a pelting shower;
To experience poetry always as easily as one speaks
And to recreate it time and again
as happily as one experiences it;
.
Well!
Then, can any poet’s heart that listens to it ever become a desert-dry?
Can his pen ever stop writing even if it were time for it to cease?
.
K. Geetha:
Khadga Chalanam.
From “Drava Bhaasha”
.
ఖడ్గ చాలనం
.
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