Some working day they will increase all over again
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Thoughts spring up and swirlTriggering a chainProliferating insideCausing chaos and muddle
They knock with fervorTo crack freeFrom the locked brainboxWaiting to consider variety
Restless and jitteryDesperate to breatheThey commence to thrust and stompTo make by themselves listened to
Abruptly light entersFrom the luminescenceOf the mighty penBringing hope and solace
But as they tread the pathTo become a single with inkThey are compelled to haltBy an huge block
Dejected and defeatedThey trace back again their stepsReturning to the spaceFrom wherever they stemmed
They curl up and surrenderStrewn all overSome locating their placeIn nooks and corners
Some working day they will rise againSome working day they will fight againSome working day they will bleedAs terms from the mighty pen
Author’s Notice: The 2nd wave of COVID strike like a thunderbolt. I felt as if sand was slipping from my arms, and I would soon be remaining vacant, alone and clueless. Even though I have been ready to help you save myself so much from the fatal virus, it gripped my beloved types – many of them. Some left me endlessly. Some are out of the woods, but nevertheless reeling below the effects of the ailment.
Though items might be wanting brighter now, we know that there will be no going back to pre-covid. Some changes in all of us would be long term – whether obvious or subtle. Out of all that I dropped was also my functionality to play with terms like they had been my possess. They are now trapped someplace in amongst. I do not know the place. I know they are ready to come across release but I can not locate my key to open the lock. This poem displays my very own situation, and I compose it with a hope to bleed my views as words and phrases from the mighty pen some day.


poempoetryWriterwriter’s block
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