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How much one can write
about grief, about pride?
I focus on silence.

I am a poet of Mundane,
of Nothing that take place
every moment, goes on,
unrolls into a lazy carpet of days
embroidered with noise,
granules of paint, sand,
droplets of water.

Later it grows into a song,
a painting, a fortress or waterfalls,
a novel, a jewel, a castle, a storm
or none of the above.

How could I know
being in the middle of all of it,
playing my infinitely small role
by breathing in and out,
by not thinking my life apart?

I devour a silence
It taste like an ice cream
it is sweet and cold like a nose
of an inspired dog or maybe
even an anteater.
it doesn’t have words
and deliciously patient with me
trying to fill the pages of my biography
with genuine sighs and joint clicks
I love it.

between notes and lines,
in response to my major questions
I am yet to be tired to ask,
I am your poet.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
Editing stage: 


Remarkable skill to create so much out just silence. You are a wordsmith...Apleasure to read this one more than once and then in silence absorb the poetry...


raj (sublime_ocean)

Thank you so much for reading, my friend.
It is less about silence but more about my life that is composed of small moments that are coming together at the end and I am not even sure what and when it is going to be. As infinitely small approaches zero, the moments of my life approach silence.
Thank you for reading. Hugs.


author comment

hmmmmm....thanks for the elaboration.....i don't know what to read into "the moments of my life approach silence"...hope all is well and continues to be well...

warm regards...

raj (sublime_ocean)

And you are a fibber!
"I am a poet of Mundane," "playing my infinitely small role". Self-deprecation is very unattractive.
You finally tell the truth with
between notes and lines,
in response to my major questions
I am yet to be tired to ask,
I am your poet."

You are not so different from a Bukowskie or a weirdelf, your mind, like all poets, never stops looking, seeing, hearing, listening,noticing all that is sublime, ridiculous, ugly and gorgeous. You merely express it more gently, elegantly,with the generosity of spirit that allows your reader to find it for themselves, instead of bludgeoning them about the head with it as I tend to do.

There is grandeur between the lines and in the words. But no more self-deprecation or I may come visiting with my bludgeon.

A new incentive for critique, description at
discussion at

Hey, Weirdelf, thank you for reading and commenting. I am not sure what fibber means.
But I ment to say that my poems are build from small things. It is not self-deprecation, it is my poetic credo, my style.


author comment

for liar. You aren't of course, I was teasing.

But give me some credit, please. I've been reading and appreciating poetry and poets for fifty years. What's the point of honest critique if you say "oh, that's just my style"? I'm telling you this one is different. You were lessening yourself and it didn't come across with the full integrity of the rest of your work.

I acknowledged your skill and subtlety. I am also acknowledging that some voice inside you was demeaning you. This is not your best work.

A new incentive for critique, description at
discussion at

It is okay. Perhaps i could not deliver the message.
Just simply notice that I do write a lot about small seemingly insignificant things.


author comment
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