if you ever master poetry,
write me into a word
that cannot be replaced by any other
a soft sound
where birds could rest their wings
and learn the dialects
of each other

translate me into a word
like sehnsucht
like saudade:

known only to the vocabulary of your voice

when a painter and poet meet


mid-September - we're walking, lost 
in rumbles of today's street. some men are talking. 
some are not.

suddenly, your voice is a room I can walk through,
every syllable, a resonance aching 
through my body; 

I know
I am already smiling


walk slow I say
so that I can rest somewhere in your voice
and read Cummings, or maybe 
just watch your hands paint poems into me

a vase of van Gogh's sunflower, a host of starry skies


i do not want to stop walking, but somehow we do. 
all around us, the noisy crowd of a street.
your fingers within mine, are as obvious as them all.

everything is loud, everything is silent

and our hands, a metaphor to every poem
I haven't written: 
just too simple to resolve

My name is Namita Krishnamurthy. A ardent reader, aspiring poet and musician, I reside in Kerala in India. I write mostly free verse, but am also into well-written rhyming works. I am 14 years old, and have been published in a state newspaper, three local magazines and one international anthology. I am also a fifth grade pianist. More of my works can be found at: 

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