My attempts at poetry do not follow any defined rules, they are just thoughts which I force into the narrow confines of language.I have come to believe that the unsaid speaks to us in more powerful ways than everything that is said.
I would love to know whether you connected with it.
In continuous progression the water flowed,
When an impulsive wind ruffled its surface
Mocking seemed the mountain ; disdainful
of its incapacity to be stoic.
A carelessly flung stone,
The strong ripples took ages to subside.
For a long time it endured its plight
Why, it asked, should I be so restless ?
As it watched the pebble become round and the barriers on its way
smoothen with age and time,
The answer dawned taking away the anguish.
For it was not the ripples on its surface that made it restless
and neither could any stone or wind ruffle it.