Poetry is. It just is.

Poetry is. It just is. poetry articles

Poetry doesn’t just happen.

It’s not just a bunch of words grabbed hastily and arranged to rhyme, it’s not even a so called overflow of emotions. Poetry is much more than that. It’s the silence that echoes within your being, an echo of meanings, at times beyond your understanding and yet absolutely fulfilling. Poetry is as simple as a leaf gliding down the tree, slow and steady, singing it’s own tune, telling you a story of colours and wind. Poetry is. It just is.

Every time a thought moves into the symphony of my being, I start looking for a pen and paper. No, not to write a poem but to get it out, to empty myself and see this new born breathe on it’s own. It builds itself into a poem on its own. For years I have been wondering how this happens, the definition, the concept and each time it amazes me with the newness of its being. There is no definite code to this process, the process of writing a poem. It could happen on a dull Tuesday afternoon out of nowhere like a butterfly resting on your shoulder asking you to look up at the sky and mute the chaos around. Like a possessed soul poetry flows through me. I feel like a medium, not the source. It’s like someone is pouring these thoughts into me and want me give them a shape. After each poem I look at it for a while, like a mother looks at her grown up daughter, all prepared to deal with life and she wonders with an awe ‘did I really create this?’

In silence my poems mature, they learn to talk amongst themselves, derive their own meanings and in the process of writing a poem, I often wonder who is writing whom. They make me write themselves. And I, like a pleasantly possessed being, do exactly as they say. Word by word, verse by verse. Poetry writing often comes so close to extremes, the mind becomes one with the art. So each time when someone asks me, ‘but how do you manage to go about it’ I am so completely blank. The matter of the fact is, I don’t know how to go about it. I am just taken about it, by some cosmic force. And I get so lost into it, that after a point, immense joy and immense pain seem the same. I can’t make out the difference between a love poem, a heartbreaking poem and a happy poem. You can read it with any emotion, and yet it makes complete sense. With these thoughts the blank look on my face, gets more and more grave transporting me into realizations I am aware of but fail to explain.

I like the feeling of a poem happening to me. Every now and then. On days and weeks when there is too much to do and too little to think, poems stay away. They hate schedules, they can’t stand mechanical time tables, they detest perfection. This tug of war continues, between what should be and what actually is.

Poetry is. It actually is.

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Chandrama Deshmukh

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Chandrama Deshmukh is a writer by profession and a poet by passion. Moonlit Monochrome is her first collection of English poems. She has authored two books of Marathi poems. A storyteller of sorts, the moon is her muse. Poetry for Chandrama is that one streak of silver lining amidst the chaos of life. Being an avid reader, photography enthusiast and a part-time playwright, she believes nothing touches her soul the way poetry does.Buy a copy of Moonlit Monochrome - Amazon.com | Amazon.in | FlipKart | Infibeam | Smashwords | Google Play | Amazon KindleWhat Is Moonlit Monochrome?I am picking up pieces of life And handing them over to you. Dipped in words. And longing. This book is a map of my soul. My moonlit monochrome.- Chandrama
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23 Comments on "Poetry is. It just is."

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Kavita Jain

so beautifully said and so true


Poems hate schedules!! now I had to grin because never a truer word spoken. Once the poem reaches
the pen then the paper, a jumble of words then and only then we can make time for their appearance.

gerishom wadunga

i like the poem. it explicitly gives out art in its own way.

Makaylah Downs

This is so wonderfully written. I love how it explains the inexplicable nature of creating art and life through poetry.


so subtly worded by you mam …blown away completely.

Randall Smith

I agree, many poems don’t just touch you but grab your heart or knock you down. One that I read and see nothing in can have the next person that reads it crying. But I have read poems before that are very shot and the message is so very strong. But on this site you can not write a short poem. I wonder why.

Nikita Mehendiratta

A tale of every medium and not a source.


Thanks for putting into words what I have always felt about poetry

Mark Sandford

I agree a lot with what you say. I cannot force a poem out of me, it has to come from the heart. But when I have something to say it just all comes out in one sitting. I feel that if you have to force a poem to rhyme and meter then it becomes too laborious and too much like hard work. My poems come from the heart and are free as a bird. I have no professional teaching or way of writing. It just happens……


I loved the way you talked included in the article how out how words can come to you out of the blue and you just have to write them down, to get the thoughts out. This happens to me very often, one day it happened when I waiting to see the doctor. I grabbed my pen and wrote it down and it is amazing how poetry can touch the soul. You never know when what you write might be the story of someone life and when they read it they can relate and it helps them. You did a wonderful job with this article. I am looking forward to reading more from you.


In the first sentence I meant to say I love how you included in the article how words can come out of the blue…..
I apologize for the mistake, do you ever have times when your thoughts move faster than your fingers can type? It happens to me quite often. LOL!

Savi Mani

Came late on this brilliant post, for me poem is self expression, and once i start typing the thoughts come faster than i can type…..it just happens spontaneous yes so true the poems already taken birth in the heart cant wait for schedule……..it has to be then and there……..there is so much poetry around……….life itself is a poem……waiting to be explored and brought on the paper……..nice blog loved every word of it, yes Poetry is just is……there cannot be any other explanation or definition………thank you

Vrinda Narayanan

Expressed so beautifully. In fact, even here, there was a magical weave of words…

Lokendra singh

After reading this article, my love for poetry has increased thousand fold. In this article, your every word came from the same cave of your heart from where all your poetry comes. I really become a fan of you. Your all poems are superb. Everything just pierces in the heart.

Anil Sahu
Anil Sahu



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