Tag Archive: Writer


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

Candle

I burn every night
to provide you some light
so that you can write
stories – each with a beginning new
Every new tale is a purpose well served – for my last moments few

With my help
you write new words
Adding life to characters new
Every night you create a new fate
And I feel empowered that this new world I helped to create

For when this life is over
I will live on
In the stories you wrote
characters you created
My life has a purpose
that seems perfect
Every fleck of light I have
has power immense
For every tale read by your readers ever after
will in each word have some of my essense

I wanted to write a story

There is this story I always wanted to write,
Never really got the plot completely right.
A story of love.. a story of friends…
Of a life lived well, no broken ends .

Tried writing short snippets adding to a tale,
Each time I tried, I would eventually fail.
The story still exists somewhere in my mind,
A tale made up from imagination and some memories left behind.

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 !

With words he played – my writer friend,
Started incomplete tales with no end !
Closure he sought everytime,
Got distracted though in-between the rhyme !
And so moved on… his random strife…
To write down a story – a complete life !
Though characters new, he created always – couldn’t control their fate !
An end to his writer’s block, is what the characters still await…

Insomnia

Bored he was in the middle of the night

In a dark room.. cold..only AC’s indicator light

tried to sleep..but sleep alluded

As if to avoid him..even dreams colluded

Bored too much.. he tried passing time

Beginning to write another random rhyme

Perhaps a tale…brewing in his mind

Of characters – some new.. some old left behind

Word after word, he spun a tale new

Thoughts too many filtered to lines few

The best part was that he could write the end

Every twist in tale… he would eventually mend

The writer loved this power he had

A different world he created on his writing pad

Reality perhaps lead him to an insomnia filled night,

But in his tales he wrote his dreams.. setting every ending right …

He pondered what to write…

He pondered what to write…
In the middle of the night
A clumsy writer he was
Living a writer’s block – he preferred calling it a pause

Every now and then, he tried to break the same,
Write something new, he tried..but wrote usual rhymes lame
That night too… like all the rest…
He was thoughtless, wordless, still tried rhyming at his best !

Fool…realised too well that he missed that spark now,
Faced an emptiness within, sought something new somehow,
Yet acknowledging the same, meant defeat, and defeated he wont be
Remain caught in random old rhymes, to sense new thoughts…new ideas.. he was never free…

A random walk

The writer went on a random walk,
Reminiscing past conversations, re-playing some random talk

He tried to settle a recurring thought,
A warm cup of coffee he now sought

To clear his mind and think straight now
Write some new tale… needed new ideas somehow

Writer’s block, this time, was not the same as always,
His old self had left him, seemed two personalities had parted ways

He was not the same, changed over the passing time,
Yet he kept re-writing similar words, penning almost a similar rhyme

He tried to settle unclear thoughts, clear his mind
Start afresh new, not get stuck up to tales left behind

He had changed, so had life, so must his writing now
He tried to reinvent the same, but his words… his thoughts still needed a change somehow.

Confusion…

He wanted to rhyme but had no clue…
The writer, my friend, had words none…thoughts random incoherent few…
Lost in confusion, he tried his best to express
His intentions… his actions.. but with his words he always further failed to impress…

Confusion was the flavour of the season…
Random thoughts in a crowded mind, for no apparent reason…
Like a crowded Mumbai local, all on-board – set for the journey, but fatally at discomfort,
Such were the writer’s thoughts, in his words they reflected, the rhymes that he finally wrote.

That’s the story somehow

Written words…plots…papers…books…all seem irrelevant now…
You keep saying…I keep hearing…that’s the story somehow…
Moments…minutes…days…years…all are memories old…
Yet all the time spent with you, still seems new – a tale always retold…

Time seems frozen with the words you said…
Who knew then, where time will tread…
Not knowing the future seemed bliss…as one realises now
Memories of a not so distant past is haunting somehow…

Stories start and stories end…
Some too twisted…one can never mend..
Yet every tale seems incomplete now…
You kept saying…I kept hearing…that was always the story somehow.

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Note: The above piece is inspired from the below verse written by a very talented writer I once knew :

Lafz…alfaaz…kagaz…kittab sab baimaani hai…
Tum kehte raho…hum sunte rahe…bas yehi kahaani hai…