Friday, March 3

Stop me

Flitting through a fretful day
I try to lose my mind
Grabbing at a grainy thought
To stir this heart of mine.

And when it won't suck up to me
I screech, I stomp, I sigh
And swelter through some sudoku
And let it pass me by.

Tapping on my keyboard
Make letters dance and lie
Picking up the pieces
Of another night gone by.

And when the words won't come to me
I find a deep dark hole
And bury in it lovingly
Torn pieces of my soul.

So when the hours search the light
And all is black and gold
I'll be sinking out of sight
With stories left untold.

18 comments:

death said...

most beautiful pome i've ever read. genius

aria said...

"I'll be sinking out of sight
With stories left untold."

This line was so beautiful ..
Ahem .. I see some changes on your blog too n I'm gonna click that poetry link next ..

Prmod Bafna said...

Wonderful poetry!! Definitely the best of your works i've read atleast! just totally fell in love with the last stanza! cheers! :)

Inkblot said...

Death: Am I supposed to believe you?

Aria: thanks. just playing around with stuff that interests me.


xfreakx: thanks! Read You, What in the World, Never, Eclipse, Party time on friday night...if you have the time and inclination.(says me, carried away with enthusiasm)

San said...

poor mind .. you like torturing it don't you

Prerona said...

beautiful form, exquisite soul, painfully sweet ... perfect.

Anonymous said...

:) Good one.

Yes, you definitely make poetry out of everything.

Stories left untold. - Edit them.

Inkblot said...

Sangeeta: I just like writing

Prerona: now why does that feel good?

SS: aye aye sir

The Individualist said...

The lines I loved the most.
"And when the words won't come to me
I find a deep dark hole
And bury in it lovingly
Torn pieces of my soul."
Makes so much sense. Is so true. But somehow, with all the adamance and the arrogance associated with me, I never let it happen. I don't like postponing writing. Any other thing, I will, gladly. But writing, no. Feel guilty and ashamed of myself if I ever sit down and the words prove elusive. And thankfully, usually, they don't. :D

Another sudoku addict here? Or just passing time?

Φ said...

You said..I'll be sinking out of sight
With stories left untold...


I say..
Out of sight,
that you will
but stories
you would not
speak of
but part of
had been writ
jus so you could strike out
with blot of ink
or gouts of blood
and wouldn’t tell..

Out as an escapist
No, for there is
an author
who is determined
to expose,
you - his character
someday.. along
with the other
smudges on crumbled
paper that has started
to smell..

GhostOfTomJoad said...

Nice one! Stories, if they remain untold, tend to bite :-)

another illusion said...

this was so gud! sudoku is a nice way to avoide the haunting untold stories...

sinusoidally said...

Beautiful.

EATING POETRY said...

Don't go yet... as long as you have stories to tell, you can't go.

This poem has great rythem... it flows like a song. I love the Line "Torn Pieces of my soul." Those 5 words speak volumes.

Unknown said...

i'm not sure how you found me but thanks for coming by and commenting.

as to your black hole comment, in art class i remember being taught that black is devoid of color. which was, and still is, rather strange to me considering when you take every color in a crayola box and color over each one, you get black. my teacher didn't appreciate my lop-sided logic.

Anonymous said...

Nice. Words that would spill from my own head.

Inkblot said...

I: lucky you

VP: Are you trying to scare me?

Ghostoftomjoad:let them!

Illusion,sinusoidally: thanks

Eating poetry:I'll try.

twh: I used to use the white crayon last and watch the darkness mellow a little and get fuzzy. You must have been a handful for that teacher of yours!

Mom interrupted: Thanks. Is that a book on your site? Can one leave comments?

mermaid said...

Inks, the last two verses were incredible!!! I picture you vanishing with the light. I'm not sure if it is the end of you, or just another beginning.

It's hard for me to find words sometimes that just flow naturally together. Your words flow so effortlessly and purposefully, like your last few pictures of water.