The Unrelenting Writer

THE UNRELENTING WRITER Words spiralled from within her Each thought teemed from her core, Each line brimmed almost overflowed Ready to be tilted and poured. Was it the nostalgic scent around her? Or gleeful giggles from afar? Or the lush green leaves that cascaded Out the large windows left ajar, That triggered this verbose tremor? She knew not. She picked up her pen and paper And set out to jot down each letter That drizzled like water droplets From the clouded pith of her heart. But the pen. Oh her pen! A humble tool of plastic Used to unfurl a writer's world Could not keep up to her pace As the ink was drying up in haste. The bulbous body of the pen Pressed against her delicate fingers, Caused her much discomfort Yet, the writer continued, relentless. The writer’s attempts to manoeuvre And weed out each long thought Is thwarted by this wayward pen Which scarcely blots only balks. The pen weak but stiff, Trivial but tight, A device that cannot stand alone Stalls her with all its might. Hinders her way forward Tampers her every try Each stroke she takes Become lighter As the ink dwindles faster She works her way hither and tither Even though the stains Flicker, And just when the last drop of ink cease, And when all seem lost forever, She completes her masterpiece.... 11/23/2019