Creative Block Poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
Creative Block
My mornings, these days, begin suspiciously
Like remnants of yesterday's rancid dreams
Words pour forth as though they are thoughts
I stand on the edge of my nineteenth floor room
In the same plane of existence as my eagle-friend
And shout them into the misty morning air
They all come back, over the dregs of morning tea
As empty resolutions and so much semantics.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 4:50:09 PM # 1.0.0.1119
