Five poems by Perumal Murugan from his days in exile

Never have I not been engaged in the act of writing. Of course, the pressures of material life have kept me from writing now and then. even then my mind was always ticking with ideas. I don’t know whether I had the ability stem the of my thoughts and exert control over them. But I know I never felt any desire rein them in. of those thoughts just ran and never came back. There have also been those that only appeared run away but actually buried inside and later expressed themselves when I put pen paper. Writing me is a habit of the mind. And poetry is my ideal. It is close my inner being. Right or wrong, it allows me give vent my feelings and emotions. Poetry, me, is a vehicle recover from anything. No matter how stressful the situation, I have been able endure it, on the tip of the one word that takes shape in my mind. This habit of talking myself sometimes even manifests in the movement of my lips, when my thoughts are given […]

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