Newcomer, I am, into this class of penning it down
Flamed by a passion to create something beautiful
The passion into which I completely drown
The passion in which I strive to be skillful.
As I convene myself with a pen and paper
Imagination knew no bound
I swerve in it like a skater
Nowhere in the real world I were to be found.
And when I clutch the pen
Adhered I am right at the start.
Though I had ideas ten
The bull’s eye, I couldn’t hit with the dart.
“What do I write about?”
The question echoed within.
Whirling in a roundabout
And stuck in a writer’s block’s inn.
Should I write about the ocean’s cavern?
Or about the Everest’s peak?
Or about the broad Grand Canyon?
Or just a petite bird’s adorable beak?
Crowding the floor with crumpled up papers
Clenching my hair between my fingers
Frustrated like a mother holding scrapers.
Urged by the need to create bangers.
Exhaling the deepest sigh
Putting all the brain cells to rest
I keenly watched the pigeons fly
And finally make it to their nest
Realizing that good things take a time pay
I smiled with a sense of relief
Relieved that I, too, will make it one day
Make it to my nest that stands stiff
No matter if it is today
Or a long eternity later
To myself, I pledge that I will make hay
Even if the sun doesn’t shine brighter.
Um! Did I just pen about this baffle fever?
Uh-Oh! What do I name it now?
Eh! I’ll just name it with love
That I ‘Didn’t know what the title would be either.’
IMAGE CREDITS: Pixabay