Poem-A gift that keeps giving
At those times when our voices falter,
When the world our words attempts to alter,
When I’m alone, unable to express or speak,
When my strength abandons, leaving me weak.
When colours fade and illusions become clear,
When situations begin to cause me fear,
When everything is thrown into focus,
When everything seems to be against us.
When the world is bright and happy,
When our lives are glowing, joyful, and cheery,
When emotions run too high to say,
When feelings overwhelm on any day.
When I’m trapped in a storm of unuttered words,
When my emotions soar higher than the birds.
I can’t speak, and I can’t express yet,
But writing poetry conveys my euphoria and my regret.
When the pigments of thoughts are too saturated and bright,
Poetry becomes a medium to mix—plain and blank white.
Putting across thoughts when the voice stumbles,
When the words trip over each other, they crumble.
Poetry flows easier than words.
When my throat chokes and my voice comes in thirds,
Poetry is my saviour, my life—
In moments of joy, in moments of strife.
To many souls, poetry helps express
The one thing that’s theirs, the one they possess.
It belongs to everyone who’s ever felt alone,
Whether in elation, sorrow, or the unknown.
It’s the gift that keeps giving,
The liberator of the living poems.

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his article is published by Bookosmia, India’s #1 publisher for and by young people. Bookosmia publishes stories, books, podcasts, events, TED-Ed talks, workshops, bedtime stories and more related to kids and young adults.
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