A Chef-d’oeuvre


Scent of the papyrus lured me
Scattered were some letters
Waiting to be weaved once
Into a masterpiece unsung.

A ticket to fame shout head
Flare high the Imaginations
I sit alone in a blank might
Making no sense of empty sheets.

Naked truth are all mine I speak
In the marathon of life
I lost opportunities to think
Not loved my beloved dreams.

Fool you are to feel to write
Says the annoyed head in wonder
I smirk at his foolish thoughts
For head never rhymed for me.

Let me cry for all miseries
In the embroidery I made
Filled puzzles full of convulsions
Unleashed I, with empty alphabets.

Characters make no history
Write O fool, utter head
I scribble not some art
For words are in combat

Cheated them, in hallucinations
To equate  wealth as happiness
In rush to earn and fly high
I blocked all literary quests.

Hiding in all those lies of artificiality
Left alone, with scribbles and some vacuum
Head laughs over the helplessness
I refuse to hear him, one last time.

Hiding my face in some dew
I let out a shout of pain
For the heart could not partake
And like a blast it all came.

I wrote one line of extreme distress
Then one after another came rhythms
Setting me free of all worries
A chef-d’oeuvre was in these hands.

Also prompted @Theme  Thursday, Inspiration Monday, Sunday Scribblings, Poets United, Two Shoes Tuesday, OSI and The Sunday Whirl.

14 thoughts on “A Chef-d’oeuvre

  1. Sometimes we do get writer’s block and then the next thing we know the words are flowing out of us as quick as we can tap them into a computer or typewriter. The scary thought to most of us is that our words will stop coming and we will be totally lost.

    Thanks for sharing such a thought provoking poem with us for this weeks Theme Thursday. I hope you are having a weekend with many different scents that are good for your writing.

    God bless.

  2. This is layered and DEEP. Thank you! You express exactly what all of us writers and poets go through, even if we won’t attend to that damn ‘head’.

    Brava. I’m reading this again and again. Truth in every stanza. A poem for life, actually.

    Lady Nyo

  3. Excellent!! So true that if we only listen to our head and the negative pronouncement of others, instead of listening to our heart and writing of our longing, we are cheating ourselves and the world of some wonderful words! This is perfect for Two Shoes Tuesday this week, will be watching for your link then!

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