Writers Block

By Anjali Nayak 

The pretty little mind of a poem.

Is one of its own. 

I try to manufacture meaning.

To start shouting the dictionary. 

Every page an opportunity. 

The poem finds its fate in small words. 

In the simple things in life. 

I crave finding intention in the minute details. 

To find significance in the leaves. 

Rather than dream of something to live in the trees.