by Meghna Chatterjee, Age 14, India
The fiction prompt for October was “disguise.”
I cannot speak because of lockjaw, cunning, and self imposed,
I whisper words that others dare to speak;
Disguise emotions as banal repose–
I see every truth dressed in shades,
every person dressed as shadows,
In the constant satirical masquerade
Costumed as life;
A silent preoccupation in labyrinthine sentiments, my words
unacknowledged, but in the discoloured surface of a parchment’s skin.
Every voice a rustic blade
between my ribs. I am the hunter,
And the hunger.
Of the tiger in the twilight–
I search for stars in screaming daylight.
Wondering if the rings of Saturn
could mean any more,
They say I’m just a poet, but I’m not so sure.
When asked to tell us more about this poem, Meghna said:
The odd style and structure of the poem is to increase cohesion between the rhyming pattern and how I wanted it to be read. Some of the statements begin with a capital letter, which denotes the beginning of a new thought,and some don’t, which are read as a continuation of the previous sentence. In one sentence, this poem is about an individual whose written words are acknowledged more than her verbal comments, and thus she struggles hard to grasp her poetic instincts and channelise her feelings, and her annoyance at the world, through poetry.