So here’s the first of the bunch, one of my earlier poems, and one that I think the most people have read. This is one of the few that I have given to more than a couple of people to read.

And before the question comes up let me answer it - No I am not the Unsung Hero, the poem came out of a single image of a man rowing into a sunset, the rest kind of wrote itself.

 

Oh! Unsung hero where do you go?
Why mournfully into the sunset do you row?
Why look of anger of confusion do I see?
What answers far away do u seek?
Care not do you of your people no more?
Leave will you while their hearts still sore?

Care? care is a word I once knew,
Without that word now I can do.
Your wrongs I've made right, kept you from what might.
I have been your beacon, I have been your light.
So much so I have done,
Why am I still the unsung?

Questions all wrong cloud your head;
Answers to those are in no book, in no sunset.
Of the title which you hold only some are worthy,
Look unto only one word do you, the other dont you see?
A word that overshadows the rest,
A word that you brandish on your chest.

Wise words you speak oh unknown counsel,
Lead to light do you from where I dwell.
Who are you who brings the light?
Protect me from my own demise.
Who is it that knows whats done?
Who is it that sings the songs of the unsung?

I am the light, I am the truth.
I am your conscience, I am you.
So say with me the words you wish,
So this guilt I carry I can rid.

Hear this all living under the sun,
I'll be your hero I'll be your unsung.

Hear this all living under the sun,
I'll be your hero I'll be your unsung.

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Poetry, I’ve always loved it, it seems to add a sense of artistry to the otherwise ordinary. It always has a way of blending together words and expressions to bring together a thought, or way of seeing things, that otherwise would not have occurred to me.

There was a time, long ago, that sitting in the back of class, staring at a blank piece of paper, I could write something that had some semblance of rhyme with reason to it. Not all good mind you, but it was something. And it always brought about that joy of creation that comes with creating something vaguely artistic (even if the final result might not be). That feeling of I made this and if I didn’t it wouldn’t have existed.

Over the years I’ve sort of fallen out of the habit and I’ve always attributed that to everyone’s favorite scapegoat, Time. But when I really thought about it, I figured out that that’s not really true, there is a lot of time that I sit around doing nothing of any real significance that could really be put to better use. But unfortunately that so called time is never really practically available, it always exists only in theory in our mind.

But then again poetry isn’t something that is really that easy to get back to, well not to me atleast. For me I need to be in that groove of sorts where you recognize a series of thoughts or feelings as something that can be penned down as a poem. It’s like your mind needs to remember what it’s like to think like that again. Either that, or you need to be hit with something profound, which was the case with my most recent endeavor into poetry, my ode to Gokarna.

But I miss those times and I figured now is as good a time as any to get back to it while these thoughts are still afresh in my head. So as a result I have decided to publish some of my older works occasionally, for everyone who reads my blog to see. There aren’t that many just a handful but its something. The hope is that perhaps revisiting some of the older poems can get me back in to the flow of writing poetry again. So for all those who commented on my Gokarna post asking for the older stuff, here you go, hope you don’t regret what you wished for.

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