Paper neat and white
With pen in hand.
Intend of mind to play with words.
But no thoughts flowed.
Then mind prompted –
Wait a while for words to form.
Time went by,
Frustration creeping in.
Forced the mind, pushed the heart
Not a word came for the pen to write.
Looked around, again and again
Gazed the nature,
Realised a yawn or two,
Beat the paper with pen,
Pushed the chair back, and
Walked to and fro.
Gazed again through the window plains;
With the eagerness to meet a friend.
Actions unfolded one by one.
Frustrations kept on creeping by.
But no sign of thoughts nearby,
Neither word flowed to the pen.
Journeyed through the landscapes of memory –
To find the hives of thoughts,
To nectar the words, but found none.
A day when pen went down starving,
With no words to serve on paper.
Still waiting in eagerness,
To quench the thirst for Word.
Reblogged this on The Iniquitous: Crimes of Sanctuary.
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