by Anne Hambuda & Christopher Charamba


The page is blank.

Words I cannot find.

A pen in hand.

I must clear my mind.


So full of thought,

yet words won’t form.

Noise and chaos, reside within.

Yet nothing on this page is born.


My lips stay still,

as my soul shouts out.

I am broken into silence

And filled with doubt.


No whisper, no words,

No story to tell.

My soul’s greatest tales,

are burning in hell.


I feel this need,

my words must feed.

But still this pen’s

ink won’t bleed.


I write to free

my mind’s torment.

These wandering thoughts

with no place to rent.


My soul is spent

My spirit weak

The story dies

I cannot speak


The torment is

My soul’s best friend

The poet’s pain

Knows no end