Writer's Block

How long will the trembling hand
could hold the pen?
While trying to put together
the scattered imagination
vividly created in mind,
to pen down the words
that has been trying
to explore.

The night bird chirps
and the midnight passed,
the rooster crows
yet the words are scarce.

When would it happen again?
That every time the hand moves
and the fingers touch the pen,
the thought flawlessly flows,
like water in a stream
no rock could stand in the way.
When would that be?
Only when you're beside me.

Heavy Rain (who's to blame?)

Lazily I throw myself in bed,

feeling the chilly temperature.

Outside I hear the ticking noise

as raindrops falling on the roof.

Back then, the noise is music,

but now, it's a nightmare.

Rainy days, rainy days,

a season then enjoyed by children.

Heavy rains, heavy rains,

now, it is feared by children,

now, it is feared by people,

they pray it will come no more.

Who's to blame when it happens?

Was it caused by nature?

Does nature unleashes its fury...

or human is to be blamed?