Some nights,
the pull of a poem
is so intense
that I can hardly resist,
while the comfort
my bed and blanket
offer, lies in wait.
I get ready
to capture
the essence of the poem,
and just like that,
it vanishes—
erased,
word by word,
thought by thought.
And I’m left with
nothing—
no poem,
no sleep,
just an empty mind,
restless with bitter thoughts
of letting
yet another poem
flit away.
This piece is written in response to the two hundredth and seventy-eighth edition of Fiction Monday inspired by the word prompt – INTENSE hosted by yours truly. Do join in if you have a tale to tell.
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Void Thoughts 
A small notepad in the bedside drawer, a phone kept close to jot the thoughts down can be so useful in a situation like this. But then how does can one be sure. May be it was the destiny of that poem to live a short life – getting born in your mind and dying immediately then and there. What a tragic life!
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Beautifully put! I completely agree to that. It surely works that way for me. But, I also have days when I defy people and routines and just pour it all out.
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This poem rings so true! Maybe, an empty mind is not that bad – often, it can lead to a profound experience. Enjoyed reading the poem, Vinitha!
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I love this! And I totally understand the feeling
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