Thursday, August 6, 2015


Half-baked lines
float around
I write one down
And blanks abound
A word stands out
I rush to make a verse
Stubbornly it resists
And, I take a recourse
Books and pens I buy
Dreaming a fresh start
But a few pages into
Nothing stands apart
I move my place
From work and home
Even a bookstore once
Thoughts continue to roam
Not a chance I have
To see through my dream
Of filling up my rhymes
In papers by the ream