Tuesday, October 26, 2021

I stopped Writing...

Why i stopped writing
and then withered down
with no words to carve 
on the narrations of 
so many perspectives
At times it is therapeutic
and some moments
it has no meaning
I find my words
hitting the rocks and
loosing its worth
How strong is the pen
history narrates
and the future writes
 
know some moments
writer goes through 
depressive blocks of writing
it's a phase of words 
being stagnant and lonely 
finding no meaning
to its words and writings
no purpose no muse
no genuine eyes to glance
through its narrations 
and many observed findings
 
yet 
 
the writer crawls back 
to its writings
for its soul is stringed
to its words and meanings
a writer senses 
its readers interests
as naturally 
as a mother to the
cry of its baby 
It's not very common
to understand this happening
what a writer goes through
in the journey of writing
what comes naturally
has so many perspectives
so many influences ,
thoughts
and unsaid experiences!
 
To conclude,
a writer is a
lonesome wanderer
who finds
its way back eventually !

-SSW
 

Blank Canvas

Lies in introspection, a canvas blank

seen to the word, why is it blank!

I see their colors and artisan's work

yet you peep in, where is the work!

The canvas stares back at me

I gaze through its strokes, talk to me!

I hear no words, flows a light river

I look at it close, and I see no river!

It is blank, it's empty, it shows no work

Far at sight, it reflects life's work!

Scornful, I talk aloud to the canvas seen

How do you look blank in your making?

Says Canvas...

"I am empty behind the colors seen,

Like you beings, hiding as unseen !"

Your visible is filled with artisan's craft

But there is an emptiness behind the raft!

-SSW


I stopped Writing...

Why i stopped writing and then withered down with no words to carve  on the narrations of  so many perspectives At times it is therapeutic a...