Betrayal of the PenA Poem by ArminaMy first ever sestinaHurriedly he tried to pen Everything life left to wonder, But his hand betrayed such thought. Inspiration hid. He tried to brush Off that failed attempt at mastering his own mind. Though he supposed he shouldn’t mind That much needed break from the pen. So he laid down his head in a feeble attempt To rest. Still the incessant wonder Of life knocked, so with his paintbrush He tried to scribble down his thoughts. “How impossible it is.” he thought. “Why am I so stuck in my mind?” He said. Mindlessly, he painted some brush On mountains' edge. Mindlessly, he missed the pen For its versatility, though he wondered What versatility offered his attempt At unraveling everything. He could attempt In as many or few words to unravel his thoughts In writing. “Where to start?” was still to wonder. Intangible everythings swamped his mind, And deep down he knew the pen Could not even begin to brush The very surface. He threw down the paintbrush Knowing that the half-hearted attempt To rid himself of the curse of the pen Was in vain. There was so much he thought, So much that cluttered his fragile mind. That his head was still on his shoulders was a wonder. That is the problem: too much wonder In life. Things you can’t brush Aside. They stuff and clutter the mind, And in every fool-hearted attempt You try to cling to a single thought. It slips away. You try to pen What you wonder, what you can’t brush Off, what clutters your mind, your every thought, But in every attempt you are betrayed by the pen. © 2017 ArminaReviews
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1 Review Added on December 15, 2017 Last Updated on December 15, 2017 |