Painting glossy images of life and
laughter
sitting near the window thinking about what has gone and what could have happened;

folded hands in prayers restless minds over sleepless nights counting stars over wishes to push the button~ renew, restart and rebuild.

Alarm rings to wake us from unsettling nightmares
Chores and stern face to pursue for bills await and responsibility to ensue.

When the night crawls in
the cyclic pain begins.

Writing to me is harsh and senseless
Whenever in light of day
I pick up the words
And scorch the paper
Forcefully

Writing to me is painful
It wanders within me
As an idealistic thought
Something I wish
To master

Writing is sweet and chilly
As a crisp december evening
By the trees
A hot drink melting snow where it sits
Beside me

Writing is in my mind
At all times
I believe
Even if it does not make itself known
in actual lettering

A moment of clarity
Stifled creativity plaguing my sanity.

Negativity’s rhyme scheme
Always alters the atmosphere.
Writer’s block obscures a slighted right hemisphere.

The brain’s left side is logical, factual
The right side intuitive and creative,
My brain marches - left, right, left, right
All over ink stains and blank spaces.

Navigating these ruts requires emotional dexterity
and my creative muscles have been stiff
So, it’s difficult to write with sincerity.

I can’t just churn it out while I’m burning out
Maybe I should try, I can be quite cynical
Not all creative blocks are easy to lift
Mine weighs one hundred and seventy odd syllables.

Words dived inside my mind. Emotions flow in rhythmic waves
as diluted thoughts
submerging the pages and verses drenched in melodic verse.
Passion outpour
Submerged myself drowned in inspiration.

As I drift into a lyrical sea and ink drips from my pen.
#RitzWrites

You sit on your porch swing, miles away
Making shapes out of streetlights
Dancing in the dark
Looking for remnants of a red sun
Chasing after silver moonlight
A pen in your hand
Poetry on your tongue
But the wind catches sight of you,
Carrying the words away  
And everything remains unspoken

what do i write
is it because i have nothing to write
or because i have a lot of things to write about
i just started to write just so i can fill the paper
and it's not empty
let me stop because i will fill the whole book and i have borrowed it
©Grace Njeri