Writer's Block Poem by Abdul Wahab

Writers block

a gift for us
in multitudes
an unending treasure
wealth of the seven kings
when we are two together

but I deprived
of the sweet grain
barren of the quite
drizzling rain
bereft from the
blissful stream

I am blocked.

though
senses go
for a thrill
ideas score
a nil
a sense of infertility
creeps in

in solitude
crowded in,
the clouds
with heavy rain
flooded me

and I am marooned.

among the great ideas
I lose myself
In the cobweb
knitted
So complex
I can not find
My desired thread
My senses starved

I am blocked, again.