These days ..

The blinking cursor

curses even more

when you keep staring the screen

like an ullu

(wont use the word ‘owl’

for it is wise in the West)

flailing futile for the straw

of an idea to catch; unlike the hay

stuffed in the hollow of your brain.

It is right then, when you shut the cursor down

and go on a Tweeting spree.

 

 

 

The State Of Poemlessness

Like a poison rushing
through the veins,
positioning the brain
to cut off the links of life,
this state of poemlessness
intruded my mind,
and blocked the passage
of thoughts into pen.

The pen is waiting while
the hem of the paper is spread
begging for words, increasing
my desperation for intoxication.

The heart needs to intervene
to clear the scene in the brain
for the freedom of pen
and paper from a death of hunger.