On poetry and redundancy

I came to IITD in the afternoon today, wearing a nice kurta, a pair of jeans, and having gelled my hair nicely together. In short, I thought I looked, if I may say so myself, rather natty in this unusual attire. Thinking so, I proudly walked into class, with my head held high. Imagine my feelings when I heard, instead of the applause and praise I had expected, laughs and giggles. As I stood there, I was aware that I was being called curious names by my friends, who are rather unused to seeing me dressed in such a way. One chap called me Netaji, while another addressed me as Devdas. One fellow went as far as to say that I looked like a poet.

Now I have nothing against poets per se. It's just that I don't happen to be one. I am no good at poetry. I can't write in verse. In other words, I do not have the ability to string together words into a poem that quite a few of my colleagues possess. I am but a novice when it comes to poetry. I am sure my readers get the gist of what I am saying.

That is not to say that I like the fact that I cannot write poetry. I detest my inability to express myself in verse. I also detest the fact that inspite of years of trying, the art of poetry still continues to elude me. I think myself to be an articulate young man. I have never as yet in my life felt what can be loosely described as 'being at a loss for words.' I can speak pretty well, and, subject to the tolerance of my audience, sing reasonably well. I find no reason why I should be so rudely barred from entering the world of poetry.

As I have touched on before, I have tried my hand at poetry. Not once, but many times have I made an effort to think like a poet. However, except for managing a few sets of disjoint rhyming sentences, I have not achieved much success. Allow me to present a few of my better compositions.

Going out on wintry mornings is bold,

If not careful, one might catch a cold.

Don't seem to fancy that? Try another one.

When traveling in an auto, I always take care,

That the driver never gets more than the appropriate fare.

Here's another one of my literary gems:

Here's the most obvious thing one ever thought,

I am me, and you are not.

See what I mean when I say I am not a poet. I am sure that I have managed to convince my readers about the verity of the fact that when it comes to poetry, I am not the person to consult. After posting this blog entry, I feel that my word on this matter will never be doubted. The bylanes of the city, I think, will be abuzz with whisperings, "Manu Saxena is not one of poetic disposition." I hope that my readers will realize that I am not a person with a poetic bent of mind, and when they hear something contrasting this fact, they will vehemently oppose it. I hope that my blog entry will encourage my readers to help me in dispelling queer notions about me currently prevalent in society.

With that hope, I bid all my readers a very pleasant adieu. For it is getting late, and I have Applied Mechanics to do.