Poetry

Pen Missing Paper

The lines in my head,

Empty as lost souls — hopeless,

Waiting to be fed.

Like a needle —

Useless without thread.

A dollop of butter — missing,

From a warm slice of bread.

Running wild to succeed,

Can — if I just believe.

A black without blue —

Me without you —

A blank page —

For a day or a few —

Hundreds, stuck in this stage,

Please — Oh please help me,

Pen to paper — engage!

For I am just a writer —

Absent, empty, lost — words,

Every second I age,

Fly like no return birds,

For paper untouched by —

Pen is hell on earth —

Ready,

Ready for my rebirth.

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Gratitude

Thank you Suntonu Bhadra for creating this creative and back to basics publication and giving me a platform to share my hand-written words.