Dry not, my pen

Dry not, my pen, nor bite the dust before my time, you're the nepenthe to my agonies, the breath to my life. Dry not, my pen, nor leave me to fend for myself, your nib is my sword, your ink my solitary help. Dry not, my pen, nor grow weary of my imprint, I am…

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Writer’s Block

My words are barrentheir cracks run deepand nothing grows in such heathen debris I replaced structurewith dry blank verse (or what I tend to callnonsense by amateurs)Inspiration- you slut,are you in coffee houseswith ashen cigarette butts amid poet-sleeved blouses?Tell me you're not so literalor that you have a type-no choice for me but to belittlemyself…

Invoking The Muse

Come back to me, O Muse,Wake, and ascend to your heightIn your gold let me, O Musegild my pen with a sword's mightthat it may then, O Musethe very parchment alchemisewhose blinding rays, O Muse,will veil art's white sorcery and lies © Isha Garg

Leaving

Let me leave something beautiful in the worldone good poem, one good heart, one merry moment of dance and songone kind word to the underdogone good kiss to elderly hands, one sweet smile for a loving petseeds to the morning pigeons and doves and a sigh of gratitude for June morningsLet me leave something rebellious…

Painted Nymph

All the cups of colours on the floor;the nymph drips in moistened hues...Paintbrushes and their deft strokeshave laboured in love for this view.Reds and blues, they swirl on her,but purple is her crowning jewel...And what poet can paint in verse the beauty that her pinks do hold?The masterpiece of the artist, she-the most striking canvassed…