The Writer

She wakes up to the aroma of filter coffee
And, gently rubbing her eyes, stares beyond
The potted plants on the windowsill
At a sky that is forever a lying blue–
The blackbirds have ceased humming inside her head
And after breakfast, her thoughts at a crossroads,
The keys of the laptop survive her pounding:
An unforgiving muse declines to help meet deadlines–
She senses she has become another story
Unrecognizable through countless retellings
And in the swaying, slurred lines
Of drunken reviewers and hagiographic blurbs–
The wind has lost its way across the fields and soaked
In sweat, she sighs:”This city has left me stranded in dreams”
But inhaling hope and exhaling smoke, she shuts her eyes:
Every life writes its own epitaph.
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About VijayNair

I retired as Associate Professor, Department of English, Government Victoria College Palakkad, Kerala. I taught English Language and Literature in various colleges for 31 years. My Ph.D. thesis was on the plays of Wole Soyinka. My collections of verse include "The City and the Hermitage" (1988), "Doors Swing Open" (2008), "Eyes" (2010) and "Whispers of Light in Darkness" (2013). My poems have also appeared in the International Anthologies "I am a Poet" (2013), "With Love" (2013), "Synthesis" (2014) "Poetic Symphonies" (2015) and "Heavenly Hymns" (2015).

4 thoughts on “The Writer

  1. Rashmi Malapur

    I love the way it ends. Its quite true that a writer transforms with each writing. And you are the master/ writer of your own story/ life. I don’t know what was running through your mind when you wrote this poem but, its brilliant.


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