Writings of not writing.

Blue lights are waning on the rooftop
My hands are wobbling and empty.
My mind chaotic,tacit and burning,
my pen falters to write a poem,
For the moon,lovers and loss are hyped.
The slovenly locks unfurled like the fantasy of a lover,
Flowing to an imperceptible universe,
She ponders between the lost and the living,
Of how much her memory preserved them.
A woman in yellow walk past her resembling the golden aura of the moon,
Her eyes bore the depth of the damned history,
the pen in her hand moved with a fervour.
Created a world of stories yet unknown to her,
and read through the opaque eyes
Her first home is now a backbone to her stories.

13 Comments Add yours

  1. Josh says:

    Transpotive words 🍁

    Liked by 3 people

    1. neha98blog says:

      Thanks Josh for being so supportive.

      Liked by 2 people

      1. Josh says:

        It’s mutual Neha! And you deserve it.. Keep shinning 👊

        Liked by 2 people

    1. neha98blog says:

      Thank you so much for visiting.Hope you are having a good day.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. You’re very welcome hun xx

        Like

  2. This is so amazing. The words you use to paint this picture is beyond beautiful. I love this❤️

    Liked by 2 people

    1. neha98blog says:

      Thank you love for taking the time to read my blog and leaving your thoughtful comment along the way.
      Much appreciated.

      Like

  3. Loved the story of a writer’s journey!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Love your poem! You have a gift… ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    1. neha98blog says:

      Thank you so much for the appreciation

      Liked by 1 person

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