A Nemesis’ Tantrum

I stand before

my screeching nemesis

I walk among

the stenciled names

I make the claim

that I’m a deserted poet

But my heart is

full of words of melancholy

I shrug my shoulders

in a tearful silence

I laugh at the jester

in the corridor

of my creative mind

But my heart is

full of colors from the

distant rainbows

I sit upright and stare

down the thirsty enemy

My words speak for

millions of people

I sit Indian style

with infinite words in ink

9 Comments

  1. Well, a number of reasons. Your work always flows so well, I’m sucked in, I read and re-read. Also this paints such a vivid picture in my mind that encompasses both physical and internal images. And then, I -feel- this… it is important for some reason and I can feel that deep down.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. I had to ask, I was curious because how often someone can understand something like this. But I’m glad you do. In essence the “nemesis” is himself. Not understanding his purpose but perhaps not to worry about that and just keep doing what he is doing.

      Liked by 3 people

  2. We can be our own nemesis, which is why we need the words to hit the paper. We are surrounded with many thoughts, the only way to release is to have ink meet paper. Only its like when fire meets paper, it burns forever (at least until water extinguishes it), whereas we write (the flame) until we meet the end, the last word (the extinguisher) to complete the idea or masterpiece. I hope you understand what I mean. LOL!

    Liked by 1 person

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