First Place… Diya Asawa!

Tip of My Pen 

I can feel the beginnings of a poem 

at the tip of my pen

But I don’t have the right words

To begin my verse

a seed

My hand floats in mid-air

Stuck somewhere between my brain and the paper

I don’t know

how my seed will grow

a drought

So I wait. 

From time to time

I stare at the tip of my pen

And I wonder where I’ll be when

its tip will split open to reveal 

a flower bud. 

that after some sunlight, some rain, 

will explode and bloom across the page

with the colours and the wisdom of a sage. 

sustenance