À l’heure du tout à l’image et du buzz sans suite, «l’express» souhaite faire découvrir la plume de poètes, de chanteurs, d’écrivains et de tous ceux qui jettent leur âme sur le papier, et qui mettent en mots des réflexions profondes.

I was not yet ten

but the love for my toys would make me hold a pen

and on the palm of my left hand

would be brightened with glitters of my wishes

from my collection which was a dozen.

Sometimes round and sometimes sharp,

it has always been a weapon.

Blacken or golden, depending on my mood,

inking the paper is somehow my hidden joy.

Whether one is broken or is feeling frozen,

a pen gives you the opportunity to open,

to let flow the words unspoken

and the silence shaken.

Under a tree and in all serenity, a pad handwritten

will open your lungs with more oxygen.

Jotting down your pain and burden,

crushing the paper and get it ridden,

you are also teaching your soul how to freshen and quieten.

Through beautiful words, men will leave

chicken smitten

and through swords, gone will be the heaven.

As children to days less green,

words must be selectively chosen.

A boneless missile of bombs,

dripping alphabets are engraving arts or warts to hearts

in cementing words of a depthless cart.

Epitaphing tombs with eternal inks of cherished departs

and immortalizing music and songs

with punching neology and seismic literatures,

revival of virtuosos is on the sung lips

of every sweetheart.

Through words have books and libraries been curated,

through sentences have hearts liked and

comments rated.

Cornered seat of mine so sincere and aloof

to the four walls and my roof.

Some have a dent against or a tooth.

Treading my journey, similars will understand

my boots.

Watered will be my roots and sprouted will be

my shoots.

Language inspirer and nature admirer,

a race of vocabs in the vocals,

a nurse feels and her pen heals.

Keeping all beautiful memories as an heirloom in a diary

and passing it down to another generation

all strengthen,

fluent will remain the ink in another talent.

“Ink to the poet is fluidity of blood

in the stream.”

Bio

Jhaya Gujadhur

A Public Health Nurse, she shares here a poem from her first anthology “Poesy And Quotes”, launched in 2024.