Writers' Block
Three times i attempted
Nothing comes my way i use to write my poems
I change my position and drink two glasses of cold water
And sit afresh to get back my style of telling
The story i get ready and the words i put in queue
But the style i wish to get is not coming
Perhaps i need to lift my mood
And a change of the direction of the wind
I look at the mirror and do the same
Condition is made perfect
With the angle of incoming rays
I am feeling happy
And see no cause to stop and wait
But to my utter surprise i see
I have told you much on writers’ block
By which I am severely attacked today.
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