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.
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+
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
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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!