Vanishing Words

 I always wonder where do these words come from, where do they rise and where do they set?  Sometimes shining like the bright full moon. Sometimes like the shimmering crescent. Yet many a times like the moonless empty sky, deserting poets and writers as the rains do to the parched earth.

Words, where have thee gone ?
Leaving thy writer forlorn

These are the moments I am lost in wishful thinking, longing and awaiting the resurgence of words. Like an explorer lost in search of his own hidden treasure.
These are the moments raining with anxiety, emptiness and silence. Thoughts begin to scream at full volume but the pen seems to have lost all its ink and I do nothing but hopefully blink, trying to verse-fully think.

No rhythm , no rhyme
I loathe that terrible time
More so often then not
I am entangled in this knot

For DB

I see her every morning 

      In the crowded city bus

Always sits at the window seat 

      Holding her black shining purse 

Rarely she misses her daily stop,

    Only on days when she falls asleep

On many days she is found,

    Reflecting on thoughts too deep 

She always keeps the window open

     For the breeze to caress her pretty face

And for the rhythm of  the breeze

     To make her hair flutter like a silken lace

Never have I spoken to her 

     Hence I know not her name 

But to be lost in her rapturing smile

     Every single moment I am game 

Some mornings she is found 

      Blushing at her mobile's latest text

 On some others she is lost
        With her Rubik's cube she is vexed


Last week she had her friends for company
     To find her name, I eavesdropped
But all I could hear was her nickname - D.B.
     For she vanished, as the bus stopped.
      

 

Written for Poetics : 6 Billion Others.. at the dVersePoetsPub hosted by Brian Miller.