If you find me writing too much about my Agra journey, you must forgive and understand that it was my first time attending a Literature Festival. But I was prepared by
Tshering C Dorji not to expect too much and to enjoy the places and traveling experience. He told me that Writers are strange species of people who wouldn't listen to your story without finishing theirs- and each has a story that will last a life time, which means no one would be interested in listening to us.
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| Once upon a poetry stage- 11/3/2013 |
On the second night we finally got our share on the stage to read our poetry in Poetry Marathon, but unfortunately both of us weren't poets for quite some time. Tshering chose to tell a story from his life and I thought I would speak of Blogging in Bhutan. However, I noticed that we cannot speak peacefully if we run longer than a few minutes therefore I readied an old poem from my poetry blog. Tshering found it interesting and encouraged me to go ahead with the poem. And I did!
Shut Up Grandma
Shut Up Grandma,
Your stories are lies.
Sing us a song instead,
But do you even remember the tune?
I’m old enough, grandma,
I have found my own tune.
Forgive me if it hurts you,
Because I've always forgiven you.
Thank you, grandma,
For the life you chose for me,
But sorry again, I rewrote my destiny,
To walked my own free road.
Whose blood runs in me, Grandma?
It feel so cold in my heart.
There is dirt in that, grandma,
I have bled all of it.
There is a question I feared ask, Grandma,
Because I have always felt your answer.
But it doesn’t matter anymore,
So tell me grandma, did you ever love me?
This was written many years ago when I was a high school boy and I don't know what I meant in these lines. I chose to read it because it sounded very naughty, and also it was short enough to please the writer audience who were waiting to read their poems.
