One day I'll write a poem that will be free from-
Traditional verse forms, rhyme schemes, punctuation, or shapes.
Such a poem will speak of you,
Your alienation, depression, and
Lonely walk through the crowd…
"We shan't ever meet again.
The sun is dead, and we can't see a thing.
Darkness has clothed every sin.
The rain...the rain takes away
Lusty dreams..."
One day there shan't be a critic
Whose gesture and confirmation make you a freak.
One day I'll write a poem about a girl
For whom chastity isn't so special;
For whom love doesn't mean a damn thing;
And for whom you and I…and her child
Won't give her warmth and joy…
Nothing is real; reality is nothingness,
Meaninglessness, exhausting walk with a company,
Insignificant talk, infrequent relations,
And a heart which has lost
All the directions…
What makes a poem modern?
Eliot showed in The Waste Land, Frost in Acquainted with the Night,
Hughes in The Negro Speaks of Rivers, Williams in The Red Wheelbarrow,
And Moore in Poetry.
One day I'll write a poem that will have-
Images, symbols, material kings,
Mechanical gods and their inventions, love for illusion and hatred for real.
One day I'll write a poem with words that are hard and dry.
Impersonal,
Yet you may cry. Masculine you may call it.
"I did taste the beauty of your smile in a dried drop of whiskey-
Of barley, corn, wheat, and…and
Swallowed the pain of your breast with
The majestic portion of a green juicy lemon…
How would you draw such a declaration?
A revolution, rebirth or denouement!"
The poet is a MA student, in the Department of English, East West University
