When thoughts diverge
Themes fail to emerge
words dont evolve
around confusion revolves
pen,pencil,type writer
yet -prospects dont get brighter
void looms darkness fills
helpless mind frustration fills
minutes tick in a timeless clock
tormenting me this writer's block
...............to explain the sudden silence. Couldnt write, couldnt think straight.
3 comments:
Manasi,
How true! I too remember having written a poem some weeks - or is it months, I do not recall - about the frustrations a writer faces, when in spite of the facilities, comforts and free time he has, he somehow cannot write. As you have said, sometime he's everything nearly - even the theme, which is the parchment on which a poet sculpts one feels - but the words aren't just there. Again many thanks for such a precise piece, whose labours can be acknowledged by this writer at least. Keep at it!
i await my poem.
and crumpet.
Crumpet!
Trumpet!
Strumpet!
Er... Chromepet!
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