The struggle to write - Vee Makaba

Seems as if words have become hard to remember
Like a needle lost in the dunes of the desert
I struggle to find my poetic self
My imaginative eye has lost its sight.

 

The pen that empowered me now cripples my hand
The ink well of wonder is drier than the sex life of a nun
I no longer have the lust to put quill to parchment in a moment of passionate verbal diarrhoea
The books which made me come alive now feel like a death trap
Lyrics have forsaken me.
 

I no longer wish to hear my fellow poets spit life

I’d rather spend my days listening to phones ring and bitches howl
My stress proving less demanding than my poetry
I have betrayed my gift

Poetry, I promise to find you

As soon as my ears are unblocked and my heart thaws.
I will scribble my verbals in honour of you
I will turn on the music
I will be your bride once again and you will be my therapy.

I will pen again.

This I assure you
because I love you