After much delay, here is a Sonnet I wrote that was kind of inspired by my last post on falling in love with a writer. This poem describes the writer’s (or an artist’s) imagination and the struggles it comes with – or rather, the price they pay for such a gift. It’s a simple little english sonnet I whipped up for class the other week. Fourteen line, ABAB..GG format.

Hope you enjoy! I will try to post more often. Until then–

Blank Page

There’s something ‘bout an empty space that sparks

Fire in us, like one with noise cannot.

Like the calm before the storm, a wild heart

Is chaos, adventure, of battles fought.

It kills people by the hundreds, and then some;

It saves thousands from pain and despair.

All while the artist is stuck in a drum —

Like a box in a museum, they stare.

Be us animals? We don’t mean you harm!

The creator of distress suffers more,

Famished, exhausted, alone, and disarmed –

As the storm rages on beyond their door.

All that suffering, trapped in a cage,

Caused by an artist who saw a blank page.

Thanks for reading!