Writer's Block
Writers block
a gift for us
in multitudes
an unending treasure
wealth of the seven kings
when we are two together
but I deprived
of the sweet grain
barren of the quite
drizzling rain
bereft from the
blissful stream
I am blocked.
though
senses go
for a thrill
ideas score
a nil
a sense of infertility
creeps in
in solitude
crowded in,
the clouds
with heavy rain
flooded me
and I am marooned.
among the great ideas
I lose myself
In the cobweb
knitted
So complex
I can not find
My desired thread
My senses starved
I am blocked, again.
poem by Abdul Wahab
Added by Poetry Lover
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