jumbled in the maze, search
for it continues, hither thither
under the table, on the tip of
my pen, other side of erasure
cut by sharpener, bleeding
all over, none too visible
buried in lexicon, my words!
........................................................
I have not been able to write poetry the way I want to. My words are stuck in my mind but aren't coming onto paper or PC! I was inspired by pat paulk by one of his post dealing similar sentiments.I wrote this half a sonnet taking a leaf out of Russell Ragsdale.
12 comments:
Gautami, looks to me like you found the way to release those persisitently hiding little words. To repeat your words, know the feeling well.I think you have captured the cure for writer's block!! Russell's always a half leaf short, he won't mind.
Gautami, That's a nice half sonnet! I'm glad you gave it a try. Writer's block - I wanted to move to that neighborhood; I hear Pat lives there.
pat, sometimes one is itching to write and bubbling with ideas but words simply refuse to come out. You convey that feeling very well. Hence I was inspired by you to write this.
russell: you half a sonnet stayed in my mind. I had to write one. Come to think of it, I am no good following iambic pentameters!! I agree, pat lives there but he still manages to write!
this sure doesn't feel like you+ve been blocked. well done!
Great sense of humor and great writing.
Thank you for being real!
I love the "other side of erasure"!
I think I'm catching the bug...too--maybe I'll have to write with blood...
.....beautiful
Hi Gautami... I have been suffering from this disease of writer's block since a month...your words console me...
Both this poem and your Thursday poem are wonderful! I haven't been in the poetry mood for a year--one of my readers recently noted that I haven't posted poetry in a while.
I think we all go through it. One of my poet frinds who is not into blogging much says, he has set his clock and sits to write 2 hours daily.
Maybe I should try that.
The sonnet made me look closer.
You sit 3 hrs sometimes but nothing may come out worth, but when you are busy in office or home, it may come to you like a bolt and you may have to run to the pen.
That is what poetry looks to me.
jac: I know what you mean. Somedays my muse is dead as a dodo.
Yesterday I was sitting at some crowded govt office waiting for me turn and words hit me. I took out my small diary and penned down those. I wrote and wrote and forgot the time of waiting.
Such if the life of a poet..err..deemed poet.
Post a Comment