Stillborn Poem by Valsa George
Stillborn
As I closed my door and lay down to sleep
A poem came and violently knocked at my door
Being quite late, I put a rein on my desire to admit it in
Even in my sleep I could hear the faint sound of a knock
In the wee hours of the morn, as I sat up to house it
Only scattered phrases and broken lines floated around
A crazy excitement made me trap them in ink
But nothing worthwhile showed up on the writing pad
I found I had only violated the virginity of the paper
After hours of spasmodic labour pain
What came out was a stillborn with no heart beats
It lay limp before me and all excitement died down
It’s still body, I found had closely resembled me
Something of me was there stamped on it
How could I who had parented it
Callously discard it in a dustbin?
So I carefully stashed it away in a secret place
Where no one’s prying eyes would ever fall over it!
Wonderful read mam. The title of the poem mislead me. I would say, in a deceptive tone; the writers version of still born is most magnificently brought out! Though many of the poets struggle through this phase very few comes up with such master piece. Thanks for sharing dear mam!
A Beautiful poem on Stillborn. Its very true said, some lines if we don't note down immediately, we never get them back. But this happens usually when we are quite busy at that moment. In this process, we forget to note down. I agree one time or the other, many might have faced this problem. Beautiful poem. Loved reading it.
This is an experience most of the poets have at one time or the other experienced. My advice to writers, especially poets is that they should keep a writing pad besides their bed and scribble down the lines that are born out of sudden insight or inspiration so that one can recount and construct upon it later. Tap the Eureka moment should be the mantra! Ma'am you have captured a poet's dilemma so brilliantly.
Would love to see that one which you think was still born. Please don't stash it away from your readers' sight. Poesy is strongest when we are slumberous and too lazy to get up and capture it on paper. What filter's down to paper during our so-called waking hours is only a hang-over of it. Like the beautiful dreams that we often remember in bits and traces. Beautiful poem. (10)
what a comparison! yes it happens to me too. Idea to start something, motivation to do something, plans in mind and left half way... so many things go this way with me. I'm glad that are people out there, who make me feel that i am whole, even spite of undone rights. liked the way you put them down.
An excellent and captiving poem I like most. Best collocation. Many thanks.
I have been in these shoes many times. I now find myself, if a poem is running around inside my head, jumping up in the middle of the night, so as not to forget words if they come me. Loved you poem! !
Wonderfully worded and excellently express. I will add it to my poem list!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
11/21/2025 1:55:52 PM # 1.0.0
Very original and creative about the lines we write that we never show to anyone, but they are very much part of our innermost thoughts! Amazing write Valsa!