Tag Archive: Hell


Block

A writer’s nightmare – am I?
A pain on the roads – am I?
Sign of disruption – am I?
An end to consumption – am I?
Not sure who I am
Confusion at best
Or perhaps just an excuse for some rest

For you writer, I am a hindi movie villian indeed
To free your heroine – your imagination from my cluthes, you plead
Cause fighting me is no good, you know that well,
Just adds more moments to your personal hell
But I am just a mere block – to each his own
Seeking solace everywhere, but eventually disowned
Wouldn’t it be nice to be acknowledged not ignored or hated for a change,
if only my thoughts too someone can express
Just try writer, perhaps this will help you come out of your mess

He tried to write a tale too long…
Lost track in between.. wrote it all wrong!

In a cafe at night, he attempted to complete this tale,
His words he misspelt, his chain of thoughts would fail !
He attempted to write.. a perfect beginning.. and a perfect end,
Neither was possible, broken segments of the story, he had to mend !
That’s the trouble he faced, as a writer always…
Good stories needed high drama, twisted ways…
A single track written, never went well..
Writer’s block creped in…It was every writer’s hell!
Adding new twists changed the plot,
He never reached the end, he had always sought…
He tried to add an impromptu track every time
Even though it meddled with his story, changed the flow of his rhyme !
Old characters he created were forgotten in lieu of characters new
Who were the protagonists now of his story? He himself never knew..
And thus the writer who sought a perfect end
Tried writing a reality, which he could never mend
For every fix he tried, another end seemed a mess
His tale was going nowhere, that was his best guess !

Writing was…

Rhymes came easy, simple they were,
A clever play of words, to anyone it could occur,
Yet he made it his forte, his love of life,
Writing was his passion and also his strife.

A poet he was, one that never made sense,
I must say he rhymed well though, a point in his defense,
Sometimes though rhyming could be crazy, make him write stuff too insane…
Writing was his boon and also his bane.

An addict he was of tales too many,
Wrote many of his own, happy endings weren’t any,
Though he always started a tale on high notes, couldn’t end it so well..
Writing was his heaven and also his hell…

Of new paths and old ways…

“Shall I walk ahead…or shall I stop?”
A wanderer wonders…
“What next? Where to go….?”
The map one had, proved wrong long ago,
Ways marked by others are not necessarily right..
The turn others had taken, may not be in sight.
So now one was lost..on a journey he planned well…
Thought he will go to life’s heaven…Got stuck in life’s hell
And now the question comes back to him
He followed other’s trails but now his journey depends on his whim.
What to do next…where to go ?
Walk ahead on roads going nowhere ?
Walk where others have not dared to tread ?
For this is how new maps will be made..
New paths will be discovered…while old ones fade…