Poems about poems...

How is a poem born?


How is a poem born?

​A poem is born from 

the electric spark
lit, when
your limbs meet mine.

the haunting ache spearing
through the space between
death and birth.
the blood spilled,
to mark your slice of the earth
from mine.

the cry of the wolf
as the moon moves
to a maddening wholeness.

the message of the flower
that explodes with
the secrets of the earth.

the gasp of my eyes,
you never heard,
as you turned to go.

the trembling
of hands never held.
the flowing wave
dissolving your sand castles,
and mine.

the crystal ball,
daring us
to unfold its whispers.

the unicorn’s horn,
floating,
on fairies’ wings.

the flute’s strain,
heard over
the clamour of the kitchen.

the meeting eyes
of lovers,
in a traffic jam of strangers.

the crimson sky
over a smoky city.

the roar of hope
in the drought of dreams.

the smell
of the warm earth, after
the first sprinkle of rain.

the silent blessings
of dying grandfathers.

the song made
from shards of broken hearts.

the thirst of the fountain,
as it overflows,
searching for lips.

the sharpness of pepper
on ice cream, sprinkled
for no reason at all.

the soap bubble
of our meeting,
coated with a rainbow.

the rise and fall of breath,
whispering stories,
into lovers’ ears.

the silence
that sits through,
knowing it all.

​

Unwrapping a poem


Unwrap a poem
slowly.


Tug at the full stop tenderly,
and it will become,
a ribbon of light.
At the edge
of the ellipses,
hangs the silence
you’ve been waiting for.


Careful now,
the tricky metaphors
stuck to the cello-tape,
will cling to your fingers,
to your heart.


And,
Don’t rip the noun!
its colourful jingle
has a story to tell.


Unwrap a poem
gently,
like love’s first night...


Peel the paper-skin
kindly
It is alive.
It’s bright, orange folds
will reveal chunks
of luminous sweetness,
quenching your thirsty heart.


Unwrap a poem gently.

© Harvinder Kaur. All rights reserved.