No rhyme, no rhythm, no reason;
No song for a special season;
No cause against which to rage;
Just wandering words down the page.
Unsteady hand on uneven line,
Tired body gives way to dull mind.
Insane irony of this process
Where much gives way to far less;
Where inspiration only conspires,
Ventures out during forgetful fires,
To leave me scavenging in cinders
Of would-be masterpieces and wonders.
all of us sometimes goes to this kind of writing process, a simple irony of our life just to love the form of penning and scribbling down thoughts without some value or essence at all...............Thanks!
The struggle of putting it all together, is very well put together here, Great Penned 10++
ohh...amazing poem... a very different concept...and so wonderfully expressed. 'Unsteady hand on uneven line, ' and the last stanza....beautiful. thank you very much.
we all get these 'uninspired moments' or writer's block or 'just-can't-get-it-right' knots...but if you can write a beautiful poem about it... you're cursed! you're a writer!
Hey, new poem....very interesting, your writing process. Has a subtle drama yet reaches for a better hope....insanity as a form, yet no rage. I love it. Bullion Grey
wow! this is amazing i loved it!
nice read good write
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
Very well said Roshni...as Catrina states we all go through these phases regularly...writing for the sake of writing, but you have expressed this process wonderfully...Thanks 10+