Poem: Lost Poet – Spiritual Media Blog

Poem: Lost Poet

By Dr. Archan Mehta

Gentle readers:

I started writing

Poems, as a child,

Without support,

Without encouragement,

In a land, Ahmedabad,

As barren as the moon,

A cultural wasteland.

Thus,

A wasteland of 

Tears was my childhood:

I was a prisoner

Trapped within the

Four walls of a room,

School and college,

And without any

Hope of escape.

Instead, from my cage,

I would often dream

About the wild, blue

Yonder: the outdoors

Which held passion 

In the form of sun,

Warmth, and honey.

Most of all,

I wished to be a farmer,

As rustic as green onions

And red tomatoes

And apples and olives,

But I was told to study

Engineering and medicine

Or, by default, end up

As a crooked lawyer.

In order to express

This predicament, I

Started writing verse,

At that tender age,

When experiences

Are still innocent

And the fertile imagination

Can plant roads, highways,

Santa Claus and tooth-fairies:

That was when I turned

Into a poet with a lament.

Surrounded by business types:

Petty shopkeepers and stock

Traders and academicians

More interested in minting

Money than scholarship:

These rude and crude people

Burned holes in my sensitive skin.

Indeed, I was the lone warrior

Who worked best at night,

Or early in the morning,

And I sought my own

Company and held 

Hands with the

Human imagination

And aesthetic grace,

A dreamer among

Commercial and 

Materialistic and 

Consumerist beings:

Thus, I became the

Laughing stock 

Of the masses who

Had no appreciation

For art nor artists.

Gentle readers:

It was a lonely struggle

To put pen to paper

And to express

This dormant

Impulse to create.

I did not express

Cold and metallic feelings,

But emotions borne from

The pain and suffering,

Through years of isolation

And being ruined by

A cruel examination system

Which knew no compromise.

If only I had been left 

To dry besides clouds,

Sun, moon, and trees,

Creatures of nature,

And the unmistakable

Feeling of fresh and green

Grass growing beneath

Your feet as you walked

Alone on a splendid beach

Near the ocean with a breeze

Caressing your cheeks gently:

As you buried your feet deep

Into the wet earth, sand:

It sure felt like paradise.

**********

Dr. Archan Mehta has earned a PhD. in Management. Currently, Dr. Mehta is a Freelance Writer and Consultant based in India. Over the years, Dr. Mehta’s creative work has been featured in numerous publications in India, U.K., USA, South Africa and the Middle East. In his free time, Dr. Mehta likes to stroll in the outdoors, party with close friends, listen to music and stay on top of current events. Dr. Mehta is also fond of meditation. Please feel free to reach out to Dr. Mehta at