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
...
Read full text
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!
wow amazing - the thought of u jotting down something n unable to recollect being compard to a still born, and losing the virginity of a paper - superb...but Mam this also led to a new beautiful poem for u Thoroughly enjoyed reading
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!
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)
It happens with all the poets but everyone is not capable like Valsa to describe it in such a beautiful poem. Valsa is Valsa...................10
So I carefully stashed it away in a secret place A logical solution to the most common problem. Maybe later developments will be able to bring life to the stillborn baby. Thank you for a beautiful poem.
It's an excellent poem depicting a situation that I think happens with every poet at some point in time. At least, it happens with me not too infrequently. Sometimes I am able to retrieve partially but more often, I am not. Sometimes, while trying to retrieve, I scratch out something new altogether. Thanks for sharing this experience.
I have experienced the same thing. Sometimes I struggle to resuscitate it, but if it can't be saved, I bury it in a drawer and mourn its loss. Excellent poem, Valsa.
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.