Saturday, September 22, 2007

Emptiness

Some days i have

a poem waiting inside me.



Today,

is not one of such days.

8 comments:

The Phosgene Kid said...

Oddly enough, I am in the same boat, but it is a bigger problem for me as I am taking a poetry class and really need to come up with something. I was hoping to pirate something form you!!

How's the baby? Hope you are doing well!!

shadows said...

loved ur blog....
well even iv been out o' poetry for long now....
as much as i read...im only 23...but somehow u remind me of wanting to be a mom...though being young and all i want to have an amazing career and all that...i dun wanna get married and all...just be a mom...

congrats....

santhosh said...

Firstly, congrats! And my wishes to the baby. Just noticed your older post.

psst: given my explanation (if you could call it that) of my 1st comment as a 2nd comment on your previous post.

Z said...

Hope you're not exhausted. Take care, honey.

The Phosgene Kid said...

That poem must be bursting to get out by now!!

dharmabum said...

hey, all well i hope? do take care.

How do we know said...

Hi PG: ;-) The poem came and went.. these days, there is no time to entertain phone calls, emails, or poems. Sorry, your piracy will have to wait until later.. :-)

Hi Shadows: Thanks! For the compliment to the blog and for the Congrats for z baby.
Wanting to be a mom? All the Best for that too..

Hi Santhosh: Thanks. Read that explanation. It is sad that your friend fell for someone who was.. well, not entirely normal. But i dont think that acid attacks are the rightful response to psychotic, sunning girlfriends. Yes, that does not take anything away from the suffering of your friend. That suffering is really, really sad too. My wishes for ur friend.

Hi Z: i AM exhausted! Everyday, i think of logging in to see msgs that always cheer me up, and every night, i wonder where the day went :-) Thank you!!

Hi Dharma: The Best Days Of My Life! :-) Thanks!

adi said...

somedays,
a poem waits inside
simmering
simmering
and when the night blooms
it unfurls outside
takes the form of that moon
and ignites the night
somedays,
when the poem waits inside