Words have seeped through
the parchment, unread,
and tears had remained, unshed.
Yet under the flickering light
I play with frozen letters,
while my sentences stutter.
A bottleneck of memories
have clutched my mind,
like a shadow, lurking behind.
My ink is no longer faithful,
it has turned stone, long ago,
while I await for it to flow.
Poet’s Sleep, 1989, by Chang Houg Ahn
A cracking poem………I went along the blocked line as well!
Beautiful one! To think of it, I have written on poet's block..
hey u have a word captcha?
Like this very much – great words.
Simply awesome!!!
Maybe our creativity's like a wasted pencil that we are too lazy to sharpen sometimes.
Or maybe wrong analogy 😉
First time here. Not the last for sure. Blogrolling you.
Updated mine. Do drop by.
Cheers
CRD
I've felt this way too…you captured it perfectly…
Wow, What an impactful ending!
Oh I hate it too when ink does that! Great poem!
"I play with frozen letters, while my sentences stutter"…I can so relate to this writer's block…great poem.
jhakkaasss poem!!! gal u inspire me to get back to my poetry days!!!