There has been many a time when I
Lamented the silence of my heart
Circumscribed in a cold attic
The words I sporadically spewed forth
Maddened, sickened and depressed me
I swore never to write again
I swore to remain forever silent
I wanted desperately to remain in quietude
Like a foetus in its mother’s womb
But each time I was drawn back
Each time I was driven madly into
Splattering on the pages of my diary
My erratic and sometimes incoherent thought
I was trapped in bewildering verbiage
From where there was no way out
Anguish and passion drive this personal revelation about the writer's art, not as a choice, but as a compulsion. I'm sure all for those for whom words drive their lives will identify with this fine poem which views the process of written expression as a maze from which there is no way out. love, Allie xxxxxxxxxx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The word came to you and you had to let it in...I know..I have felt like that myself Thank you for a wonderful poem Pia