Poet In Transition

I am a poet in transition,
who still has the plasma cover around him
and yet can travel miles,

Miles,

until the chord pulls me back and shows me my
Limits.

But I am arrogant,
and pretend to be bold,

This boldness is feigned
I am an ostrich trying to hide myself
from predators...

Yet,
What makes one a poet?
Is it the poet's emotions or objectivity?
Is it memories of a love that
never worked out or an endless love for the entire humanity?

Tender regrets or great satisfaction of completing a poem?

Or,
Is it,
Just words - right words placed in right
places,
each one chosen like a general chooses his
Soldiers,

each move made with the dexterity of a chess
grandmaster,
And then placed in the right slots to solve the
puzzle that a poem is

A poem is a solved puzzle that becomes only
a piece in a bigger puzzle when the reader reads it.

So,
Why do call myself a 'poet in transition'?

Because my writings (poems if they are) reveal more than what they hide...
Unless it goes the other way around,
it will always be like this:

I will be poet in transition,
Waiting for the metamorphoses to complete,
to turn into a butterfly from a caterpiler
The shell finally to be broken,

But now my poems are just solved puzzles

by Souren Mondal

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