Insta Poetry


A voice from the dark is sneering at me.

I am meddling with some of my old poems.

Out in the bluish cyberspace, poetry rushes free,

Mocking at the years I have wasted, learning

The craft, writing and rewriting the endless drafts.


Fragmented aphoristic lines with doodles—

Found in the margins of old school books—

Now scream from every computer screen.

I brood in this room: is it 1984 all over again?

Or is it my psychedelic view of reality?


Watered down metaphors stare at me, goggle-eyed.  

A toxic mix of rawness and idiocy sweeps across

The virtual world. I tremble in cold loneliness.

I read the bywords for bad quality, and ask—

Who gave poetry the freedom to be flawed?


Denying the metrical, rhythmic nexus, words swirl

In a vortex of erratic line breaks. Flamingo-tall,

They chatter from their cushioned nests, claiming

To be a part of new Renaissance. Their coral legs

Disturb me, they scratch the heart of a keyboard poet.


Banal melancholic voice reaches a crescendo.

From the wastebasket of cliches, I pick up a line

Of hard-won truth masquerading as slurred advice.

I chisel it and try to give it a shape, still—

It doesn’t give up the job of being an agony aunt.  


From the bogland of social media, it hollers and cries

The joy of being alive. Its consumptive fervor whirls

The craft I once learned into a fierce decay. My words melt

Like greasy garbage down the kitchen sink. Time has no pity

For me in this world of insta poets.


Bibek Adhikari 

Poetry by Bibek
Read 351 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2018-02-25 at 13:16

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Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
This text has been chosen to be featured on the home page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting it on our poetry website!

Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
I try not to look back, but once in a while it's good and I can be surprised. Some are good, some I thought were good are awful! Enjoyed reading this.

I have had to rewrite some of my old poems, to make them read
better. Guess you learn as you keep writing. Keep writing.

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
This is why I don't read my old poems. Nicely done.