The book inside


Somewhere within me
is a book waiting
to be written.
The words hesitate
on the peripheries
of my imagination
ready to spill out
on to blank paper.
The characters
stand around
rehearsing their parts
waiting for the moment
when they will be
called to action.
Plot lines zip around
madly, tangling with
each other, becoming
progressively more
complex, as my
brain struggles to make
sense of them.
Scenarios race
with one another
hoping to be the first
to be created.
And through it all
my heart beats
with an unsteady,
escalating rhythm,
asking that eternal
question, when?
When? When? When?


2 thoughts on “The book inside

  1. Ah – the angst of the struggling/aspiring writer…I know this well. Even with my humble blog I struggle. I salute your ability to write everyday, Rush.

  2. Thank you Shruti! Not quite everyday, but I’m trying. The poetry is not too hard, but a book? That’s so deep inside there isn’t even a glimmer of light reaching it so far. But I AM enjoying the poetry writing, which makes the daily struggle worthwhile 🙂

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