My pen moves on the white paper
creating black marks on it.
Do that marks have the shape of letters?
Or are they liars in the disguise of alphabets?
They gather and form some words..
I stacked them in many orders
again and again..but
they are not geting the maturity of sentences..
…words,they are blaming me secretly,
I could hear their quenched whispers..
They may have seen my dustbin, with
its mouth wide opened, to swallow them all..
Or they may have seen the hell offered
to the other words bornt from my pen
locked in the dark jail of my drawer
This white paper too blames me
for making her face ugly with the blackmarks..
But I can’t stop writing..
This pen is out of control of my control
I’m really helpless!
Yes! thats the only way..
Write with the pen with no ink..
Write’n write’ write with delectation..
This is the only solution..
If the words written gets maturity
at any time on future..
I’ll fill my pen with
the blue blood flowing
through my veins..
Then I’ll name it as a ‘POEM’…
Achu