i was born in a cradle
made of gold
my father was the king of Tut
he married the princess of Tat
and the bore eleven children
all named Tat 1, Tat 2, Tat 3,
Tat 4 for the girls
and Tut 5, Tut 6, and so on
and so forth for the boys,
I was named Tut 8
King Tut thinks that I am a lucky child
being the 8th
everything in me goes up
but Queen Tat believes otherwise
like Tat 2 my name as Tat 8
sounds like a
bad toothache.
This is the story of
my birth.
(Proceed to the next Chapter
for the Story of my Childhood)
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
No comments:
Post a Comment