When I Seem To Have Nothing To Write.
The world is in my shoe, the write — I'll write
For, when ought I know to write, I will write
When my bleeding muse misses her period
My thirsty pen craves for ink to shed blood
I raise my head to see the sky's colour
Behold! White; not a rookie pen's humor
like my muse is captured by black demons
Words stifling and chocking, stammerer mourns.
While muse seem not my attachment, I brood
My virtue is the black as sky's ink; a-blued
Moment of sorrow and sadness it was
Then, I'll write out the sadness without flaws
When would my silence becomes a sigh-lence
An hour long without a thought so intense
I cringe, for the trance I so drool to ply
curl up in sky- outfly, alas! I cry!
But the blank sheet scares me not as rumbles,
Chewed o'er are my vains in wasted scribbles
For, when lose I muse, I drink my whiskey;
My wine ink, drunk on thoughts till muse 's frisky
No worries, it might be the time for wife
Since ink is not the only way of life
I search the crannies and depths of the (h)eart(h)
For my muse, heart, mysteries to unearth
When thinking aright is forbidden me
When all is blur, words fail to come to me
In timeless times wrote I thoughtful silence
In the present absence of thoughtfulness.
I will conceal my muse not -feel- too deep
Made up my mind; out of bound, do not sleep
Grand of all, 'Spontane'ty' refuse pop
Creativity adopt I, to go a-top
I'll dig through the walls fencing Muse away
I'll cut through hide, the writers block I'll flay
I'll search through the expanse thought, perch my mind
I'll write with ' inky waves when it's hard a-find.
So much running through my little cute mind
So much emptiness will feel my filled mind
when my pen is silent, my heart roams round,
As If left I b'hind in cells of this bound.
With muse,words flow without an accomplice
Unmused, words flow — more of voice in a piece.
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