#lfe
Our backs hold stories
Not even the spine
On a book can handle
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 8:58 PM UTC
For about an entire week,
I experienced the writer's block.
All I did was pace and peek,
At the old broken wall clock.
I had the compulsion to write,
But I lacked the inspiration.
Though I had the burning desire,
I couldn't find the motivation.
The quest took me to the book,
And I found nothing there.
I tried a completely different look,
That resulted in nothing either.
Whatsoever I really did,
Produced nothing much
In spite of this, I didn't want to quit
So I tried a deeper search.
I searched within others
They had nothing either.
So I liaised with some brothers,
Some had nothing to share.
Then I tried my fellow writers,
They had everything over there
I tried to search beyond them,
And the question was where?
So I said to myself ****
What about I stay right here!
IB-Poetry©️
3/9/2018
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 2:49 AM UTC
“One’s” ok, but “two’s” illegal come a night whispered,
“Run,”
Or so the grass spoke –
Run like the wind.
Run,
But always look back.
Run,
So to liberate all you’ve loved.
So too, awaits a home, only dreamt.
And she ran,
From village to village –
Blankets wrought pollen.
Carrots,
For another’s eyes.
Our baby,
The outlaw prior even born;
Hot on heal, the “department.”
And we ran,
Hopping continents –
I, so to support.
Our son,
So to survive.
My wife in wait,
Our second miracle burrowed,
Just beyond the world I’d promised,
A land, so help me, and shore we’d arrive one day.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC