Aside Posted on
The most fun as well as amusing part of having an anon tumblog was the interactions with various poets, writers and readers over questions. Some would share their own tumblogs while the others would be anon, just like me. Why I like it more is because that enables observation and experience of a kind of objectivity in one’s expression, which otherwise is tainted by one bias or the other.
During one such interaction, I received a question from a reader which went as follows:
“Who would you write your last poem to? What would it be?”
When I first read it, I figured that this was a question to be mulled over, brewing thoughts and experiences and then answering. However, it did not take me more than two minutes to come up with this response, as if I was waiting to tell someone, lest I never get the chance.
“Hmm. This is the first time anyone’s asked me this. I wonder will there ever be a last? I may die the day I stop writing or I may stop writing the day I die. I would prefer the latter.
I am not sure if I have the answer yet however, if I were writing the last right now I would write to this character in my head. Here it goes,
Have we met before?
Did we talk?
I remember your face,
Only vaguely so.
Did you say something?
Why can’t I hear you though?
The flush of your cheeks
and that twinkle in the eye
does give away your secrets.
Stories of joy and sorrow,
Tales of love untold.
Smile a little more for me,
smile a little for
this will be my last memory.”
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