With every thought…

Written as part of Weekend Wordle #6 and Wordplay #7 at A Prompt Each Day. Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, in their Sunday Mini-Challenge segment, asked to write a poem based on the title of any poem written by Romanian poet Paul Celan. This poems is written based on the title of his poem “With every thought”. I’m also sharing it with The Tuesday Platform AND with Poetry Pantry at Poets United. Image Source: Here.

With every thought…

With every thought
Be it sour or sweet…
Eagerly born, a poem;
It breaks the quiet
Of my grave nights,
Slips out onto paper,
Shining in starlight;
Insomnia surrenders,
And I sleep in peace,
After all, in this life,
I was born to write.


(Β© 13th July 2015)


Poetry & writing are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

78 thoughts on “With every thought…

  1. I admire the part of the poem shinning in the starlight ~ Thanks for participating with Real Toad’s Sunday Challenge and wishing you happy week ~

  2. It is good to know what you were born to do,
    and fulfilling to follow. There are some poems that
    must be written as well – to give you the peace
    to find that sleep.

  3. Leo, I did that last night. I woke up at 3:30, then again at 4:30. The second time I couldn’t go back to sleep so I got up and ‘keyed my poem’. Since I did it on the iPad there were some things I couldn’t do. And by then, just before seven my insomnia departed as well as the one you wrote of and I slept for another 40 minutes. Thank you for writing yours just for me. πŸ™‚

  4. This is what would happen in a perfect world….no writer’s block AND no insomnia….it is written beautifully and if this is an expression of your process then you are incredibly blessed!!!

    • Oh. Not always. It’s just that some days, there’s a verse that just HAS to come out, C.C.. πŸ™‚ Even if in a writing phase. Till then, sleep evades. After that, insomnia evades. πŸ˜€ Glad you liked the poem.

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