My Style!

It's festive season,
and I bumped in an old, forgotten friend;
or rather, he found me,
while shopping on a road-side stand.

I flipped around,
to find a familiar smiling face,
the name to which, I still
can't recall.

He was dressed so properly,
and I wore a meager Bermudas,
with a stupid Tee.
He shot it a glace,
and shook my hand.

As the initial rounds
of wishing and inquiring died,
he asked me about my fends;
a problem, about which I am still uncertain.

And as if, that wasn't

embarrassing enough,
he went to put forth,
this mighty riddle:-

"I heard you are a poet,
so temme, my friend Varun,
what kind of poetry, you produce,
and what is the style that you use?"

The question was simple,
yet, to me sounded as a riddle.
I am neither an expert,
nor a professional,

I write for me,
and personal reasons.
I don't know the harsh,
tones of rhyme,
nor I understand the
boring concepts of mater.

I didn't study the
art of creation,
I never learned to ornate,
any words, phrase or syllable.

I know no formal rules,
nor formats.
I know no trends,
nor patterns.

I was neither raised an artist,
nor formally educated,
and I follow no set parameters

or rules.

Then, it hit me like
a bolt from the blue.

Yes, I don't follow any rules,
and I am not bound to any other issues.

I write what I want,
I write what I feel,
and I express my emotions,
that's my only zeal.

I give no damn to any
obligations,
my pen and paper are my wings,
my token to freedom.

A smile played on my lips,
as I parted them,
with personal pride and glory,
saying, "'Free Style' is what I pen."