The mood, the poetic mood where has it gone?
The mood that made me once write poetry
No more knocks at my door now a days
And gives me pleasure it gave me once.
Perhaps job, home and relations the cause,
I failed to respond the call of the mood.
Now are there Music, Books and Nature
Yet the mood that moved me once comes no more.
Three decades ago one lonely night I wrote of my plight;
One twinkling Star solaced my heart then;
That Midnight Star inspired me of miracles;
Now I think again of those thoughts and dreams.
Two decades ago in sonnets I wrote of a Reverie,
From Utopia to Universe I dreamt of many matters;
With that and a few more fragments my poetic ventures vanished.
Now can the lost mood I long be regained to produce lasting poetry?
Writing poetry was a thing of joy for me,
Nay, a relief from the monotony of the day’s work.
Poetry is a thing of beauty in itself;
A thing of beauty is indeed a joy forever!
Gay or grief, better to write and forget than to remember and suffer;
Writing puts an end to all lingering thoughts;
It’s a great confession that clears all confusions;
Confidence comes of the clearance of complexities.
Not mere mood but feelings produce real poetry,
Not imagination but emotion keeps alive poetry,
Not only emotion but also intellect creates poetry great,
But without the spirit poetry will never be divine or sublime.
In the five decades the poetry I have produced,
I have discovered, courage grows upon criticism;
Criticism is not opposing out of hatred,
Or finding faults out of jealousy or complaining.
It is inference, conclusion, and judgement-
Judgement based on analysis, arguments and audits.
What use bravery is, if it fails to bring benefits?
Courage even if fails never leaves in despair.
Ah! I have discovered the solution to get back the lost mood.
Life and work make or mar man in the world.
Loving, thinking and meditating occupy full life.
No time to think, then no mood is there to love, meditate and write.
What use even Music, Books and Nature are there then?
Indeed Music touches heart, mind and soul but not fetches the needed mood;
Books give knowledge or ideas but only to the ardent seekers;
And Nature too nothing but simply reflects human nature.
These are some aids that give respite from heavy schedule;
In the fast world, where is the time to stand and stare?
So, with the crisis in mind, search is made those aids may be of help;
During those searches many discoveries can be made.
Such inward discoveries like the outward ones show incredible wonders.
Joy or sorrow at its peak can lead to circumstances inevitable in life;
Those are the moments when the poetic mood comes in all its glory;
On such occasions only poetry naturally blooms in all its beauty.
True knowledge is got through intellectual pursuits wise;
Perfection called beauty through long practice is achieved by love and knowledge in unity;
The expression of such perfection gives really a joyful admiration;
Truly then, beauty of love is knowledge of truth in poetry!