It's the question's quality that matters.
And the unquestioned answers
That disturb me as the blank page accuses
But my mind refuses
To unscramble the perpetual Jigsaws.
There is no sense of order. Flaws
Appear in the remembered structure.
There is no picture
To guide the placement of pieces.
The mind releases
Its atoms of words but no songs appear.
I begin to fear it's not just a question of answers
But the absence of questions also.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sometimes it so happens that we are unable to entangle one thought from a jumble of thoughts! Some how if we succeed, then words poise another threat....! I experience this writer's block from time to time! It is natural....! But never force out our thoughts... if we wait patiently, at unexpected times, it might erupt out! A great write!
I think I'm coming out of one. What I have found useful is to write prose. It's so relaxing. I've been exchanging silly stories with a fellow member and I've found that a great help, being such a contrast to my serious poems. Maybe it's good just to write something. Some keep diaries. I don't but I guess those who do find some incident in the day, however trivial, may spark an idea for a poem. Thanks for the comment. I'm aiming to read a few more of yours in the next day or two.