Has the song of
the night gone through
those ripples,
or the somber
silence flutter her wings
beneath the silvery moon?
Wherefore her words
salient as her heartbeat,
clandestine among trees,
Leaves unrustled,
Flowers bloom seemingly stunned, their smooth edges watch
those hazy skies,
their sweet scent—
unwafted
Why her fingers seem clueless—
Wondering what they would say
on ink–and paper.
Writer's Block is indeed real. It took me months before I finished writing the above poem. Indeed, there are moments when we, writers/poets can't do anything when words of inspiration won't come. Henry Lau's music "It's You" in a way helps me find the right words. By God's abounding Grace, I'm able to finish it.
