A Rest From Writing Poem by Not Long Left
A Rest From Writing
Not one word is worth
the birth upon the paper.
Not one line feels fine
like a quick fix i split,
my mind in two.
A new neat petite,
poem owing all
to life and its lessons.
Time has caught
its last grain of sand,
the eyes allow the land
to start again.
The rain on the pane
is just rain on the pane
the sea is just the sea
the liquid thoughts,
are just me bieng me.
The poems have dried up
I have explelled all words
which were caught in the net
of my mind.
All is silent
all is calm
the dealer will return,
with more words
yet until then,
I shall not practice as a poet.
Muses can be so fickle and, indeed, somewhat heartless. And yet, we are as if a drug to them. They are unable to stay away for long. Great imagery.
Your muse will again find you, my friend. It's merely 'a rest from writing' as you said. Enjoy your rest, for the overwhelming need to write can be a ball and chain! Warmest regards and respect, Vincent, CJ
nice wording, i love to write and i also love to read for rhyme that makes me dance, dance to the beat... great poem! ! ! keep on writing (just little work for spelling though) 10 for you
expertly penned, however, i sincerely hope you are not going to stop writing as i would miss you terribly...even for a short spell as i thoroughly enjoy your work! Faith
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 2:54:22 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Great imagery, I feel the same way sometimes. Like your waiting for the dealer to return with the fix all, so you can function. Writing is functioning, and sometimes the dealer takes forever it seems to return, with the fix. Great Work!