Wednesday, April 29, 2009

a thousand helpless pieces

boredom is...

that moment between

contemplating and creating

when nothing gels

for long nail-biting hours

and the hole wears thin

along that carpet path

in the artist's hiding place;

the midnight lamp sucks the last of its oil,

and then suddenly

a lightbulb flickers

its almost daylight,

the moon shatters bits of glass,

my window lies at my feet in

a thousand helpless pieces

windiness howls into the gaping space between

random articles of furniture, paper, skin and cartilage.

all is silent now,

-my heart skips a beat-

a pen finds its way between bedraggled fingers of my writer's hand,

and then it bleeds for me,

once again.


americanising desi said...

:) you do it everytime
every every time!
how how how!

it is touching aching and yet very inspiring Shafz

KimyaShafinaaz said...

thanks seher... this ones grammar is so badly splattered but i ddint want to go back n play with it so i pressed publish before i re-read it :P