Though crowds leave me weary,
Yet treasured talks enliven me.
Though my listening falters,
I seek listeners for old tales,
Now, only solitude remains—
Tales held fast within
A mind turning deaf to its own voice.
The cheer of storytelling dims,
My stories gather dust
Shrouded in a heavy quiet.
Now, only silence answers—
My stories left forgotten,
As I sit alone.
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Author:
Rohan Regi (
Offline) - Published: May 25th, 2023 01:20
- Comment from author about the poem: Some of us might not be great listeners but might love sharing our stories. But what will happen if there's no one to listen to our stories?
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments3
Good point.
Thank you for taking your time to look at it. Means a lot.
“A mind turning deaf to its own voice” great description of the creative block-may you find many listeners to your poems here-
Thank you so much. This motivates me to give it my all.
Beautiful.
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