Poems and Poetry

Opening a Book | A Poem by Ananya S. Guha

You went home years back
to come back, write a poem
while me with fettered hands
could not. What you wrote
was unleashing pages of history
and me a stoic philosopher
only read, did not understand, poetry was writing off debts, and
opening a book of the past, present.


What are your thoughts on this poem? Leave a comment below. Browse more original contemporary poetry about the human condition, or submit a poem of your own.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *