When the Words Committed Harakiri

Santosh, in her humourous poem, tells us how words handle a writer.

“They misuse us, abuse us
Malappropriate us,” said words of
every hue
Confabulating in a word-conference
Quivering with a passion intense.
“And then callously ignore us,” said
Jabberwocky with a forlorn air.
“We will go on strike, why connive at
this deal unfair?”
Up went the chorus, “down, down,
down with the writer.”
But, among them sat a hoary fighter.
“I am a corollary damage of this word-war.
The writer forgot me hundreds of years back
But, I still yearn to make a comeback.”
Said Lethophobia, trying to shake
away the centuries’ old dust.
“I will try to be rejuvenated, and remove this millennial rust”.
“They are useless without us”, said
Quockerwodger
“Merely puppets on a string,
who can merely croak, not sing.”
“We will commit Hara-kiri”, the tired
words said in one voice.
In this word -war, being left with
no choice.
So the words,
Bold and cold
some new, some old
defiantly did fold their power and punch
and slipped into a black hole
coldly pursuing their goal.
The writer felt the crunch
and sat nursing the writers’ block.
But on his head, like a solid,
unwavering rock
relentlessly tried to knock
the word Awesome, awesomely.
“I did not go on strike,” he said
blinking haughtily.
“Am I not awesome?” he said winking
naughtily.
“Ah, you are indeed awesome,” said
the writer
Beaming at the charmingly handy word awesomely.
The writer now had a deluge of
awesome ideas
Awesome indeed had the strength of
a rock.
And the writer was thus saved from
the writers’ block.

Visual design by Anumita Roy and Different Truths