Once I joined a course on
how to conceive a poem.
We went for meditation, the
Instructor said would help us
formulate ideas and dreams.
I closed my eyes, and saw heaps
of garbage on the street and men
and women were flying over it.
I saw red moustache kissing my
girlfriend and my school walking to the sea.
When the instructor said it was time,
I joined all men and women and flew
over the garbage to chase the red moustache.
Finally, I found myself drowning in the sea
with my girlfriend giggling on
the shore, happy.
***
Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you have a poem you’d like to submit, do email us at [email protected].
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