Dash Black


For The Lost Verses


Like a childless mother after a miscarriage.
I cry for the verses that i have buried.
Like most of those wise poems
They vanish into thin air
Never to return again.
For the lost verses which could have uttered wisdom
I cry
At an odd hour, odd minute, odd second, odd moment
They came to me seeking to be scribbled on paper.
Preoccupied was i,
Busy with other things forgetting mine duty.
For those unborn stanzas i cry
Stanzas full of vibe and rhythm
How could i forget to be your lover?
And forget to pen you down?
Call me bitter-sweet lover dear poem,
Because i haven't been good to you.
To my unborn verses i swear on my very tools: pen and paper
I will deliver you till i can bear no more.

Submitted: Monday, February 27, 2012

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  • Princess Lilypad (8/31/2013 5:36:00 PM)

    this is delicious and every writers task to take! words are so fleeting through the minds of writers I hate giving them away to the wind. I want it all on paper. forgotten musings are my favorite. they are my own little presents I sift through excitedly. (Report) Reply

  • Kaila George (6/26/2012 8:28:00 PM)

    Wow this is so true, how many have I lost because I never had a pen, hmmmm brillant. (Report) Reply

  • Walterrean Salley (5/5/2012 3:08:00 PM)

    A sweet poem of dedication to your gift - the art of poetry. Love this, it describes every poet's experience. 10 (Report) Reply

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