Why Do I Write?


When I was in school, my articles were hardly selected for the college magazine. The highest I scored on my essays was only 16 out of 30. My English teacher thought all my answers in exams were next to average. Now that is not great…and here I had plans of having a book to my name some day. I often thought why did I want to write?  I didn’t know then…I don’t know now…

I never had a broken heart,

A gruesome adventure or a struggling start

Then why play Shakespeare’s part

Did I really think I was a world apart!!!

I don’t even have a recurring dream,

No haunted houses, adorning a mysterious theme.

My ancestors – nowhere in the writing stream!

And YET, I aspire to walk in the Booker’s realm.

Maybe… I am just curious,

I think too much, just furious!

Sleeping it off would be injurious,

So I play a writer – an act so spurious!

Maybe… I thought I knew too much!

About people, places and psychological crutch

And how society needs to loosen its clutch…

Thus, my duty was to lend the world – my golden touch.

Maybe…I dreamt of a never land

Where with no burdens, one may stand

He may play his trumpet, have his band,

And I had to unveil this world, so grand.

Maybe…Creativity was in my soul

My imagination wanted a vent, wanted a hole

I didn’t want to kill the story, so to let it roll

I was lead to the sacred goal.

 Or maybe… it was just easier to write,

To freely fly my philosophical kite,

Dictate actions with a puppeteer’s might

Or simply lend God some ideas in black and white!


2 responses to “Why Do I Write?”

  1. silentlyheardonce says :

    Your teachers had the problem your skill is great in this poem. Thanks for following I’ll follow you as well. Happy Writing.

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