Peel Street Poetry / December 2016 (Issue 34)

To Measure In Meter The Lightning Turning Within But One Soul's Gyre

by Vishal Nanda, finalist of the Peel Street Poetry Slam Contest 2016

To measure in meter,
The lightning turning within but one soul's gyre;
Spin Fury fed thread to my modern lyre;
If I could catch fire with my finger,
Hold my mind as if holding breath,
Bring it forth into this pen,
Let blood stream forth from my head,


If I could write something honest.

Now mine mine recent past,
Hunt quarry in this quarry in this quarrelsome task,
Seek golden truths;
Profound die doth cast!


If I could remember what's been actually happening in my life, lately.

I love her
You know.

I said to myself the other day.

It shocked me,
In a pleasant way.

Her eyes be Polaris,
To trembling sailor,
Sea shook upon waves of erasure
Take a razor to the metaphor,

Not my wrists

Leave behind the truth,

The truth is

If I had one minute to live,
Ten minutes beforehand to write,
The whole world listening,

What would I say?

What would you say?

I'd say:

To all the people in the corner.
I'm in your corner too.

Don't give up.
No matter what.

I love you.

Sounds a bit like that stuff
They wrote in them Bibles and Mahabharatas,
Or however you pronounce it,
Or that dude, Jesus.

They got a thousand pages to say it.

I had one minute,
I almost used it up.

I forgot to say,
You deserve to be loved.

Now give it back,
Give it your all.

And P.S fellow human,
This isn't God.

 Vishal Nanda has dabbled in many professions over the years. He has won a Pacific Coffee gift card for his slam poetry, on the subjects of ocean and fatherhood, which he keeps unspent next to several other trinkets he has accumulated over the years. The poems themselves have been misplaced, as they were written on a scrap of paper at a bar. He has a BA in English and Related Literature and has spent a great deal of time writing poetry, song lyrics, jokes, speeches, bios, scripts, screen plays, plays, short stories, novels and the like, as he cannot quite help himself. Nanda can be found nervously performing spoken word most Wednesdays with the other Peel Street Poetry poets. You would like him, probably.
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