Never dreamt of being a poet;
Never aspired to be a writer
Whatever the field I walked into;
Always wanted to be a fighter!
Long have I felt this hesitation;
Deep within my doubtful heart
Perhaps I am not good enough;
To buckle up and play my part!
Stream of words flowing through me
Hidden pool of talent, rarely spent
Not fulfilled, left to rot
Will I regret its waning scent?
Borrowed from none; carrying my spark
Sequence of words only I can form
And a growing desire to leave a mark
Will they be enough to take the world by storm?
Untouched, unperturbed by lure of fame
With written words as my selling point
Though I wish for the world to remember my name
If I sell out; what's the point?
Busy chasing work that lacks intent
Or choking the voice that deserves to be heard
Rather I sit back and invent
Elixir of my essence, diligently stirred
To write endlessly of the sun
Ignoring human element; lacking intimacy
Busy praising the ever-changing moon
Such can not be my defining legacy!
Not yet past the starting hurdles
Ill-equipped for journey; yet, I stand bold
Testing the waters of the intellectual mould
Caressing, unconsciously, the pen I hold!
A quatrain is a poem that has four lines for each stanza. It usually has rhyme scheme of abab or its variant, xbyb. Click here for an example.|
This poem is based on my own story. That how I never took seriously my talent for words and wanted other things in life. Until, i got to know what a sad thing a wasted talent is! Then, when I decided to do something about it, I was only riddled with self-doubt and never ending conundrums as to how far I wish to take this. I have not figured that part out for myself yet, and still, for better or for worse...here I am!
Finally acknowledging one of my talents!
P.S. Image borrowed from Google! ;-)