I've stopped writing poetry. I don't really know what was the turning point - but I really have stopped. And stopped feeling the urge to let out the words in verses too. I miss the feeling. I miss the feeling of having words in my head.
Since missing it won't bring it back, I'll force myself to write one:
So here goes.
In the dewy mist of wintery dawn
She stands there, all forlorn
Looking for something to make it right
Something, anything - any bright light
During the scorching summer days
Her parched imagination seeks some rays
Of creativity, of work more than just play
Something, anything - any small way
As the sun sets behind the golden hill
Her hungry eyes, so empty, so still
Seeks the twilight, takes its fill
Something, anything - any strong pill
When the moon shows its glorious face
She stares at it, soaking up the rays
Wishing so hard, she had the pace
Something, anything - in this case
As darkness falls, she feels the pain
Fears and tepidations ebbs and wanes
She hopes it's soon she wouldn't feign
Something, anything - ever again
Copyright Uni_Overidiotic-oony 2011
It goes without saying that I had another bad meeting with my supervisor. He's really happy with my work.
Aren't the above two sentences contradictory? Lol.
I wish I were happy with my work.