A Poet’s Attempt

“One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.” – Jack Kerouac

I often feel like I’m a failure at the one thing I’m supposed to thrive at. Long ago I formed this notion that I was supposed to inherently be a master of words, sentences, stories. After all, I voraciously read every book I could get my hands on, and early on I’d declared myself as the future’s chosen novelist. I’ve never felt more disconnected from this pre-created self than recently. [Also, how pompous to assume I’d be the next big novelist] Sometimes the words flow easily, but often it’s like chiseling away at a rock with a dull knife. And so, fittingly, I work for the world that Jack Kerouac yearns for- the simple story that spills out of my every pore. Considering the quite narcissistic nature of writing, I don’t think writers often like to confess their inadequacies. But I confess have many improvements awaiting me. Until then, here’s a poem that will maybe one day serve as a look at a famous novelist’s nascent writing skills.

Disclaimer: I am not a big poetry writer. Nor do I claim to be a poet. Although, I’ve surprisingly & weirdly been doing a lot more poetry lately because of my fluctuating emotional state. To me, poetry is a bit more cathartically effective because it doesn’t require any plot set up. So bear with me as I try my hand, very badly, at poetry. This was written in a couple minutes… maybe I should be more patient and work on my pieces longer..??

The Lost Wax

I’ll tuck my hands underneath your shirt

Looking for the pulse that runs across your chest

Let me keep my hand here to marry the

Vein that you carry in your melted flesh

You are cinnamon I am jasmine

The two unlikeliest to meet together

We clash against, your red hot wax

Burning against my pale white flesh

We are wax burning together to become

The one that melts and falls

And drips and burns and hardens as one

Your red hot cinnamon has swirled into

The holes of my jasmine flesh

The flame quivers again and we burn into


Deeper further stronger heavier

The red glides among the sweet white

To melt the newest shape to become

We burn as one, smelling of the

Sweet jasmine amongst the fiery cinnamon

Tamed together to be the ever burning

Ever melting one


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