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
Aha! Now I know what to do when my words get stuck in a my ddled stew. Wait for just one to show me the way, oh happy day!