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Poetry, even if written with a pencil, is not monochromatic.

Poetry: is it just sentences consisting of words that rhyme or self-expression condensed into a few words, that appeal to many?

The search never ceases. Poets making their statements crisper, shorter and more direct. Be it romantic poetry or abstract concepts conveyed in the best way possible, it is undeniable that poetry shows different shades of mankind. When one thinks of poetry, they might think of the few rhyming sentences they came across in 4th grade. However, that is not all.

Everyone is a poet.

Poetry is something that is engraved within each cell of ours. Humans are born poets. The beauty we see within our surroundings and ourselves is poetry. Aren’t photographers or painters just unconventional poets? The wonder of man can be expressed in countless ways. As I stare at an ice cube melting, with each passing moment, I add a piece of me to my perception of what I see. As I sit with my notepad, I see time passing by as the ice cube melts. I see the transformation of ice to water. Is transformation not a phenomenon observed in all that has life? Afterall, aren’t we just a reflection of all that surrounds us?

Poetry is a crayon-box.

The shade of the crayon we pick up that day to write a piece of us is in direct relation with the temporary constant of our ever-changing colours.

Poetry zooms-in to the finest of details one has to offer. It is an analysis of oneself that exhibits the hidden shades of man. A poet will always remain a mystery; just like a rainbow has infinite shades between each not-so-compartmentalized colour. Each poem, beyond a doubt, succeeds in whispering the unsaid into the ears of the reader. Reading poetry that brings warmth and joy is like a sweet caress by one’s mother. Similarly, each poem that meticulously captures the required emotion teleports the reader into a whole another world, where no rules bind them and they can freely feel what the poet did.

Poetry for some is a mirror that distorts reality to fit their liking. It is where they play God. The throne of a poet is one where, reality exists within their fists. A poet is nothing but a power-hungry individual warping reality to something that is within their comfort zone. It is them looking at the world wearing a pair of sunglasses or through a filter, shading the world a certain colour each time they pick up that pen. When I’m sad, melancholy would take over, the shade I choose this time to write with, would be blue. On the contrary, as I write with a yellow crayon in hand, the reader sees another shade of me, a happier version perhaps. As I keep on writing, more of me is discovered. More of me is felt by the reader. A poet is like a rock and the reader the explorer. Breaking through each layer, only to discover something more alluring each time.

To summarise, to be able to fully understand a poet is an asymptote to the graph of humanity. These are ambiguous beings from another universe, just keen observers and reporters of all that surrounds them. Beautiful tapestry of thoughts that appears to be a labyrinth from far- splendid unseen colours of ethereal emotions...


By

Nilanjana Deshmukh

10B IGCSE [Cambridge]

Govardhan Campus

Wisdom High International School.