In Vain Poem by Valsa George
In Vain
With no cover ups, let me be frank
At times my mind goes utterly blank
When I sit down to write a poem
From topic to topic, my mind does roam
But nothing comes to spark off a rhyme
Often I feel the words do not chime
Today as I sat down to write something
I ended up conjuring nothing
No thoughts came to stir up my brain
And no topic I found save my strain
But I wasn’t ready to willfully give up
And waited impatient for my mind to clear up
I thought I shall settle with ‘Compassion’
But alas, it was charged with no passion
The urge to write had grown into a fad
And I felt I was growing altogether mad
Plagued by a fiery fancy to express
And a tormenting desire unable to suppress
With a mental state somewhat fierce
I climbed up and down the stairs
I stood upside down and raked my head
So that a little poem, into it would be fed
Feeling dizzy, I stood suddenly upright
But on my head hung a heavy weight
I poured some water over my head
But knew my fever hadn’t fled
Madly pacing across the room
I tripped and fell down on a broom
Rising, I screamed with all my might
Making the household ring in fright
‘What the hell is it? ’ I did shout
And wriggled in pain as from gout
In mad frenzy, I ran round the house
No one knew the reason for my fuss
Soon it dawned on me that I needed some rest
For I was far more than stressed
So I sat down and closed my eyes
Thinking, attempting to squeeze out a poem is unwise
I don’t know how long I sat in meditation
On waking up I got a fresh direction
From the grip of an entangling rigour
I restored my sanity and vigour
The sun had gone out of sight
And the moon was beautiful and bright
It was already growing late
And I put off my futile fight
What a wonderful poem. All writers face this blank mind. But with the pen of a skillful poet even this frustration flows into a lovely write. Enjoyed it throughly since this is how I feel now a days.
And out of clumsiness, out of blankness, out of nothing as if out of blue this verse emerges as the best.....Valsa.... every piece a masterpiece......so no efforts tied with strife and strain will go in vain......A super 10
I think every poet faces this situation at some point or other in his/her life. 'Plagued by a fiery fancy to express And a tormenting desire unable to suppress With a mental state somewhat fierce I climbed up and down the stairs' - Yes, it so happens with me too. A nice expression of drought that sometimes reigns a poet's mind.
A mind that has imaginative flutter will brave against any odds and reverses. Your frustration, your blank mind and your own fever have chimed out this fine verse from you madam. 'In Vain' is obviously a wrong title for such a summative attempt on poetic thoughts. Here is 10 out of 10 for you.
Valsa, I love this poem. You have perfectly illustrated writer's block. And you've done it in a comical and profound style. You've inspire to write: Writer's Block Addicted to words Staring at blank page Mind in a frenzy Words don't come easy
Thank God that at last you became quiet. Otherwise had it been ended so wild, Then Valsa- I'd have been hanging my paper and pen outright. And telling - Good bye PH No more madness, no more wild For want of a rhythmic write....................... Ha Ha...... very much enjoyed
No pain no gain. Some days are filled with so much expressions all we have to do is just reach out and grasp a few. Just like a field of flowers so many beautiful ones but can't pick them all. Very good tale.
Like it, I have plenty in my head until I pick a pen up, then it all seems to disappear. But in the end I manage to get something out. The blank days can be a pain. A great poem.
Out of nothing you wrote something, although the title is 'in vain', but your attempt is productive and it went through gate of success, infact I loved this one :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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12/6/2025 5:25:03 AM # 1.0.0
when we write it late.......... The sun had gone out of sight And the moon was beautiful and bright It was already growing late