In Vain

With no cover ups, let me be frank At times my mind goes utterly blank When I sit down to write a poem From topic to topic, my mind does roam But nothing comes to spark off a rhyme Often I feel the words do not chime Today as I sat down to write something I ended up conjuring nothing No thoughts came to stir up my brain And no topic I found save my strain But I wasn’t ready to willfully give up And waited impatient for my mind to clear up I thought I shall settle with ‘Compassion’ But alas, it was charged with no passion The urge to write had grown into a fad And I felt I was growing altogether mad Plagued by a fiery fancy to express And a tormenting desire unable to suppress With a mental state somewhat fierce I climbed up and down the stairs I stood upside down and raked my head So that a little poem, into it would be fed Feeling dizzy, I stood suddenly upright But on my head hung a heavy weight I poured some water over my head But knew my fever hadn’t fled Madly pacing across the room I tripped and fell down on a broom Rising, I screamed with all my might Making the household ring in fright ‘What the hell is it? ’ I did shout And wriggled in pain as from gout In mad frenzy, I ran round the house No one knew the reason for my fuss Soon it dawned on me that I needed some rest For I was far more than stressed So I sat down and closed my eyes Thinking, attempting to squeeze out a poem is unwise I don’t know how long I sat in meditation On waking up I got a fresh direction From the grip of an entangling rigour I restored my sanity and vigour The sun had gone out of sight And the moon was beautiful and bright It was already growing late And I put off my futile fight