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Love is a breath of fresh air in the park, a sapling inhaling sunshine
Open your heart to it and it will surely make you feel wonderful    
Veer towards it and it will take you through the dance of life
Each and every one of us is capable of such, just don't ask too much

Icebergs melt at the sight of it, so do icecaps in Love's Hemisphere
Scintillating emotions bubble up when it draws close, so enjoy it !

Eager to please love is always on the roll cruising right past go
Veer towards it and it will take you through the dance of life
Eye candy it is not, its much more than that, its enduring and strong
Regard it with great passion and zeal, for it is something you can't steal
Grow with it and know that when its true love, it never dies, like the    
Rose, even when the petals fall away, the memory of its scent remains  
Enameled in your heart forever and a day, Love is like the evergreen tree
Enlisted in nature's plea, it is always well taken care of, by the devotee  
Night never closes in on it without a sweet goodnight, love oh love, it is !
that slow blink never helped you (y'know)
and thanks but
my voice sounds the same, still
i can't count on
whatever rule about numbers you used
it is useless

and even
a forest of poets couldn't dig it up
or a ship, full of it
i'd swim under the mad waves
away from them

so, by my bones i speak
every language i need
finding more that
love is like a field
kept by wild things
as open as a child's eyes
with
all of this room to
keep growing
don't rush the morning
it's too soon or
too early & we're always passing something (along or)
i'm hanging, hating coulds
fighting to find just being alright again

it's July already
a bird will fly across your view or through a thought
& you won't think about me or linens or anything;
& sometimes i'd rather be the burning thing
between the horizon and the clouds
when the sun sets
than this

i'd rather be quiet

cause you're calling vacation what i call patience and i don't know summer at all anymore

i'm mourning weather
i'm dressed in memory
the lavender is almost gone and
it's almost time I went back home for a while
Where is my window ?
I need the
wind to blow &
take me with it

flip me over like a
Beetle

where to end or
when to begin

I’m begging in poetry
to let me in on it

another
heedless nightcap
Send me to my dreams soon

Or
give me to the girl at the bookstore
Like a scented letter

but, send me to my dreams soon
I can’t have anything
else tonight
I think we’re just
bodies sometimes

a how-to
on becoming the ocean

or Saturday

something to swallow

It’ll make a list of me
easy

I call it something else
let it run across me like
calling it back

acts like a thorn
& turns me back to flowers
~
May 2024
HP Poet: Melancholy of Innocence
Age: 59
Country: India


Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, Melan. Please tell us about your background?

Melancholy of Innocence: "My name is Raj / Melan (as on HP). I am an Architect and Urban Planner with a MBA. I unsuccessfully pursued Doctorate (twice), but due to circumstances - could not complete it. I have worked with several International Non-Profit Development Organizations and Projects. While living in Amsterdam (Holland) for 4 years I was International Development Manager in-charge of ten-countries of the world – Oceania (Australia, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea), South-East Asia (Indonesia, Thailand, Philippines), Spain, Russia, Belgium, United Kingdom and Chile. And for separate projects I have lived for more than 6 months in Bangkok (Thailand) and Accra (Ghana). I have travelled to more than 40+ countries."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Melancholy of Innocence: "The first vivid memory of mine that I can call as a poem was when I was 8 years old. I had gone to my Mom’s office picnic tour for 2-days and there I had met someone of similar age of opposite gender. On coming back, whose name I wrote “three” times (one below the other in 3 different fonts) on the last page of my school notebook. I consider that as my first LOVE-poem. My first form of “identifiable” poetry was at the age of 13 years. It was about doing “morning household chores” and helping my Mom so that she can reach her office on time. After a very long break, it was only when my BELOVED inspired me to become member of Hello Poetry, I did so in 2016 and started writing serious poetry. I have 23 books (fiction, non-fiction, poetry) self-published on Amazon."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Melancholy of Innocence: "LOVE surely inspires me. Being in LOVE makes me feel - live and breathe in PEACE. Poetry happens to me when without knowledge amidst mundane incidences of life – like, while taking bath or wearing clothes, standing in front of a mirror, reading some story/poem/article/lyrics, watching an interviews/movies/songs, listening to music OR just by observing the way people behave, express themselves, their ****** expressions, their mannerisms, smiles/sorrows/laughter/giggles; the way they walk, turn and look around them, stand, sit that always reminds me of my BELOVED. I also always make it a point to peep out from my home balcony / window seeking a glimpse of sunrise/sunset, moon/stars, birds, clouds, feeling breeze on our skin, blooming flowers, bees, insects etc. and many more things…! Basically, I think I get inspired by something that touches me deep inside and reminds me of my BELOVED. I immediately experience the realization of “I being in deep true pure eternal LOVE” in our heart and soul. That’s how poetry happens to me."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Melancholy of Innocence: "Poetry is a true expression of how exactly I feel inside me at that very particular moment of time and I try to be as honest as possible in expressing it with words that communicates my true and pure feelings of LOVE to my BELOVED."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Melancholy of Innocence: "Rumi, Omar Khayyam, Ghalib, Tagore, Neruda, Pushkin, Kabeer, Jayadeva, all enlightened Sufi fakeers and many more contemporary lyricists."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Melancholy of Innocence: "I like to read. Now a days I read in digital format anything that catches my interest ) text books, non-fictions, literary-award-winning books, biographies. etc. I like to draw, paint, sketch, do photography, do exercise, play sports, watch movies, serials etc. I even have written full-feature movie-scripts. I try to download and listen to all songs of music my BELOVED likes and sometimes recommends me. I like to do simple household chores (sweep/swab the house, clean the toilets etc.), do mundane shopping errands, cleaning and arranging things around me, I love to sit and observe things – “Nature”; and especially common everyday people and wonder about their childhood years and their life’s journey. I like to introspect a lot and question my own thoughts – making sure I do not get convinced and/or imprisoned by anything (beliefs, rituals, superstitions, views, thoughts, religion, philosophy, “..isms” and “so-called” TRUTHS) that I may have come across - seen, read or heard. I am very uncomfortable and vary of building identities of I, me, my, mine, myself…"


Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for allowing us this opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet, Melan! We are honored to include you in this ongoing series!”



Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Melan a little bit better. I surely did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #16 in June!

~
In hollowness is where her body strays
A wandering glance into a toxic haze
A harrowing trance of a hypnotic daze
Lost on a trailway of a cornfield maze

In loneliness is where her body stays
She’s locked in place in an intricate phase
She’s walked this trace for infinite days
Lost on a pathway of a cornfield maze 

In brokenness is where her body lays  
Her mind is gone but her spirit prays
Her heart is drawn to the secret ways
Lost on a passage of a cornfield maze
We may not
Be able
To heal
Each others wounds
But we can
Compare
Share
And
Admire
Each
Other's
Scars
That's why we write and share
we could be rambling along a country lane  or better still we could be sitting up by the old mill among the buttercups and lilacs and having a picnic of peanut butter sandwiches and freshly pressed lemonade and then lying back and watching the movie show of clouds that pass,

we could be
if you were with me
but you're not
because you married that little snot, Timothy Gregson
and I am on my lonesome

so it'll be lunch for one at the chippie
again.
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