My mind being empty
and it is hard to write something
from an empty mind.
Where did all the letters go?
where did all the words go?
what I can find inside me is nothing
but an empty soul
who stole the things
that I had in my mind,
I don't know!
but it is all gone,
that is what I thought
I thought it is gone for ever
but it is not.
I can,
I still can
write something
I can talk about things
which I thought that I'll never remember
I can still speak up my mind.
I still can write from my mind.
I am happy that I am not lost...
This happens so often to those of us who choose to write poetry: we sit down to write and nothing happens. The pen is suspended above the paper, the ink is ready to flow, but - NOTHING. I experienced this just a few hours ago, so I did what you did: I wrote about not being able to write. But you went further than I did. You included the enthusiastic closing lines - conveying joy in creativity - which are very encouraging. I'm certain other readers will be encouraged by your poem to overcome their writer's block rather than surrendering to it. (Yeats wrote a wonderful poem about overcoming writer's block called THE CIRCUS ANIMALS ' DESERTION. you'll like it!)
This poem illustrates the power of poetry to solve problems and nudge our lives forward. Your first stanza states the problem clearly, in a way which should send shivers down a poet's spine: Where did all the letters go? /Where did all the words go? Letters and words are our basic tools. Without them we can't write anything much less poems! So I completely understand why you say your soul is empty in the last line; that's more forceful than saying your mind is empty. I like the touch of drama in the next stanza with the mention of stealing - That can happen if someone you trust, mocks your efforts, or says writing poems is worthless. Yes, it is a kind of theft. Your last stanza has a nice build-up: I can - I still can - I can talk, etc. Once recovered, the letters and the words do their job, and your soul is overflowing. Mine is too.46522
this not at all problem yaaar have you herd even silence speaks much whenn you realise that you have nothing wonders would happen
At times when u think tat u have nothing to write about, u just write about the condition u find urself in now. I enjoyed ur poem.
This sense of loss at times is a poetic luxury and it leads to a good. Mary re-invented speaks at the end and that's real gain. A good poem, Mary Amrutha.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such moments of dullness are quite natural when we feel that all our words are taken away! But suddenly you are excited to see them flowing to you in an unbroken chain! Mary, you are not lost! This sweet poem is a proof of that! Cheer up!