The Poetic Lull



Why such a dearth of emotional streams,
that the veins now run dry from glistening dreams,
There were times when the rivers advanced unstoppably,
Like a flood of words torrenting cataclysmicly

 Is it what we call a temporal respite?
Or perhaps it is a momentary blinding of a poet's foresight,
a slumber from the burden of the worldly and the spectral,
sending an odist, in a rejuvenating poetic lull.........

                               ~S.S~


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