Rohee Dholakia
Poets write of loss and emptiness.
“Change your thoughts, they aren’t complex enough.
There is no depth in your poetry.”
I, Happy new year
the people
who have made me
Unhappy last year
I teach children
So, I can be one of them,
a brown leaf trying to turn red.
I write, rewrite and rewrite
to act mature in my words.
Funny they ask you
to be
when they mean
to act.
Does acting come from within?
I too want to be all light and shine,
but I cannot brave an indifferent face.
Unlike some!
They do not like
the things they do not like
and I cannot like
the things I do not like.
I carry a shingled skin with dappled spots,
And an accommodative smile
And a greeting-card voice
And I…
I am trying to play with words
While a child is happy with broken twigs and clay.