On my poetryI started writing poems many years back. Then, seven years back life suddenly took a sharp turn, and it became what can only be called happening. And there was so much to write. From diaries, to love poems that doesn’t have a second copy [and the only copies of which have been consigned to the dustbin of anonymity], to dedications and what not. However, poetry was not literature; it was pure effusion, pure expression, pure gratitude and feeling, and more than anything, pure LOVE. While I cannot make any claims on their artistic quality, they meant and means so much to me. And yet, some years later, suddenly again, life turned so much complicated. Those simplified expressions could no longer envelope and express the meandering thoughts and feelings, those clumsy words and phrases could no longer keep with the philosophy. A new mode, a new competence of expression was needed. Fortunately the literature course provided much of that. And yes, recent years have seen an increasing complexity of thought, an expanding domain of expression. As I got to know more of the world, and the vast fields of knowledge, I felt humbled, and in my humility lies the reason of complexity. So, broadly two groups can be made of my poetic compositions-
Needless to elaborate, the earlier poems are very personal, most of them almost autobiographical. All of them had been written spurred on by incidents in my past. Therefore, the only way a different person can make use of those verses is by transposing himself in the place of the narrator. Almost all the poems being love poems helps this process, love (young heterosexual love) being one of the most universal of emotions. These poems are almost in black in white- they are either poems of happiness, or poems of dejection. Some are nostalgic. Some are musings. Some are in present tense. Some written on very petty but very personal occasions. In this simplicity lies their loveliness. These early poems are certainly not worth a penny in a good anthology, but they are worth millions in an autobiography. Thus, if any evolution of thought is to be interpreted, a careful note of the composition dates is to be made. A surprising coincidence is to be noticed in my latter poems. I can only claim it to be coincidence because I know it. Some people have noticed a Donne like quality in my love poems. This is undeniable. Donne is one of my favourite poets. But what is to be kept in mind that some of these Donne-like poems had been written prior to my introduction to the Jacobean genius. Even now I have read very very little of Donne, and seldom studied him seriously. How is it that Donne has crept into my poems so extensively? Donne’s love poems are complex, and mine are too- that's one similarity I can perceive. It would not be possible to express those thoughts if any different expression is to be used. Donne was one poet to whom the thought was paramount, and not the poetic form- and so he had to go after only expression. The result is that his poems are ugly to see and hear, but so much masterful and authentic in ideas and thoughts. It would be wrong, however, to say that poetic form and words means nothing to me. They do. I use my words carefully. If I have used a word at a certain place, it is because it makes the idea more coherent, the poem more beautiful. Punctuation marks are really important to extract the complete sense of the ideas- it would be wrong to read the poems in the modern mould and disregard the punctuation.
It is hoped
that the poems present here will reflect certain of your
thoughts and ideas. It is hoped that the verses would
find a sympathy in your soul. It is hoped that you
will find something in the poems for yourself. Otherwise
this whole endeavour in presenting my poems to you would
be in futility. Thank you. Composed: 20th and 23rd December, 2001
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