Asha Christensen at TEDxKids@SMU 2012

[@vijaysourabh7080]

Her Expression and the pronunciation brings a smile of encouragement in everyone's interest in language

[@s.s.d.n.2185]

Is this a poem

[@dagamingbois9262]

L+ ratio yb better

[@amnanur7358]

This girl remids me of Hermione Granger in Harry Potter

[@farzafathimathjamal8847]

Yeah u r right

[@razdipwaraich7274]

Yessss

[@bmw4306]

The voice...the voice..and the hair ofc..

[@Sharah55]

I was litterally just watching harry potter

[@aishathshahuzana3897]

Mee two🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺I I

[@sanjanaaneja6210]

I'm going to recite this poem tomorrow in my school. And let's see what will be the expressions of my teachers .whether they Will select me or not !! I am fully excited.

[@rufaromatanhire4411]

Hey, how'd it go...

[@Royal_TVman]

@@rufaromatanhire4411You got ghosted 💀

[@Isabbellla]

"Writers block" by Asha Christensen If anyone needs this (this is the full poem) I pick up the pencil, but I ask myself, "Why?" I have no story to tell, no pain, no reason to write. Staring at the blank page, a thought (snaps her fingers) wanders before me. I see a spark. Reaching out to grab it, my hands stretched out as far as I can, and - - nothing! It's all lost: all thought, all purpose. So I stare at the paper again - for hours it seems! As I look up at the clock shining 1 p.m., I was ready to take a break. Standing up, fist clenched, shoulders broadened - until I had realized I'd started at 12:59. And that hunched me back over while releasing a sigh. So I continue to stare, waiting for that booklet of notebook paper to work its magic, to stare back at me, and blink. That is what fules me a sense of accomplishment that I couldn't receive from the clock. As the time slips away, I realize I'm not alone, lost and abandoned in this blank page. So when you find yourself, and you're reaching for that sparkle, ready to grab it, but pull when you have emotion [that] builds up inside, but [you] can't seem to find the words to release and to release you, I am trapped, my feet glued to the floor, a cluttered closet of insignificant thoughts, searching for the one to set me free, to fill up the emptiness of that blank page. But this time, this time, when I look back at that page, I see words. So when you battle with that first blank page, those words you can't seem to find, just pick up that pencil, as I did mine.

[@zacmtb534]

Isabella Diaries just don’t we doin school

[@Isabbellla]

@@zacmtb534 ??

[@zacmtb534]

Isabella Diaries jusss dont

[@Isabbellla]

@@zacmtb534 i was just helping if anyone needed it :D

[@KidsSchoolProject]

Thank you very much

[@fahadmasood8031]

so good so confident child in speaking and pronouncing a big hand👏👏👏👏👏 got this girl

[@jaispandey7]

That is how I speak in my mind

[@Ari89259]

No you don't 😂😂

[@ElowenFaye]

holy shit she reminds me of Grace VanderWaal!

[@bmw4306]

Pia Rebel same...and hermione i d k whyyy

[@evwrwoni]

Pia R. OMG I THOUGHT IT WAS ONLY ME

[@Isabbellla]

Oh my gosh i just realised :O

[@bruh9289]

Isabella Diaries my fav from her is “I don’t know my name

[@Isabbellla]

@@bruh9289 Ooo frm agt right??

[@karunakarank991]

I recited this poem for a competition and I got 2nd place in sub district level. Iam 9 year old girl studying in 4th std.My name is Devamitra I am from kerala. I like your poem very much. Thank you Aunty

[@vasandradevi7054]

Very nice poem. I like it very much. It was really helpful for me. I'm gonna recite this very same poem on a competition which is next month at my school... 😃😃😃

[@Satisfyingvideosoddly]

I listen to this again and again

[@nashrakalim8762]

damn I need that confidence

[@roguegreenz.1871]

Dang bruh my teacher literally put a link in here for us to watch so please don't say this lol

[@benasirabdulazeez1177]

Her accent is just like british people ! She is confident and smart.

[@govinds9790]

Blank pages can be frustrating at times.But remember that spark can come out of the blue! INCREDIBLE!ASHA

[@shainamehra3765]

Well said

[@Adora_113]

a year ago,When I saw this for the first time,.......I became a great fan of Asha Christensen 😲😲😲😇😇

[@syenisabilaayu399]

Aku mengambil pensil itu, tp aku bertanya pada diri sendiri, "Mengapa?" Aku tidak punya cerita untuk diceritakan, tidak ada rasa sakit, tidak ada alasan untuk menulis. Menatap kosong, sebuah pikiran terlintas di depanku. A-Aku melihat percikan api. Mencoba untuk meraihnya, tanganku terulur sejauh yang aku bisa, dan tidak ada apa-apa! Semuanya hilang: semua pikiran, semua tujuan. Jadi, aku memandangi kertas itu lagi selama berjam-jam! Ketika aku melihat jam menunjukan pukul 1 mlm. Aku sudah siap untuk istirahat. Berdiri, tangan mengepal, bahu melebar. sampai aku sadar aku akan mulai jam 12:59. Dan itu membuatku membungkuk. Jadi aku terus menatap, menunggu kertas notebook untuk menunjukkan keajaibannya, menatapku, dan berkedip. Itulah yang memicuku, rasa berhasil yang tidak bisa saya terima dari waktu. Aku sadar tidak sendirian, tersesat dan terbuang di halaman kosong ini. Jadi, ketika kamu menemukan diri mu sendiri, dan kamu meraih cahaya itu, bersiap untuk mengambilnya, ketika kamu memiliki emosi menumpuk di dalam, tetapi kamu tampaknya tidak dapat menemukan kata-kata untuk melepaskannya, dan untuk melepaskanmu, aku terperangkap, kakiku terpaku ke lantai, sebuah lemari berisi pikiran-pikiran tidak penting, mencari yang membebaskanku, untuk mengisi kekosongan halaman kosong itu. Tapi kali ini, kali ini, ketika aku melihat kembali halaman itu, aku melihat kata-kata. Jadi saat Anda bertempur dengan halaman kosong pertama itu, kata-kata yang sepertinya tidak bisa kamu temukan, ambil saja pensil itu, seperti yang aku miliki.

[@afeefa961]

🤔

[@suhaibasim7899]

Starts at 00:30

[@liangxu216]

My teacher brought me here..

[@liangxu216]

Oof

[@liangxu216]

I have online class

[@mysticartloid3235]

same

[@zacmtb534]

liang xu same dSad face

[@gozmo7658]

Lmfao same

[@kobiwells4521]

I rewatching this for the 1000 time

[@revitellect3129]

Wonderful work! Can totally relate with the writer's block. Yeah, you have to continue writing even when it seems like rubbish and that will ultimately spark new ideas and the editing is what will make it great :) Alternatively, give yourself a break by actually taking a break and then getting back to your work to come at it again with fresh eyes. :)

[@leamerebosura6572]

Omg that's the piece I'm memorizing for the declamation on March 20,2017

[@mantashaa4631]

Which poem is it

[@aviibtsfangirll8107]

Please tell me the name of poem and the poet

[@Isabbellla]

@@aviibtsfangirll8107 Writers block by (the girl over here (asha something I forgot xD) by the way if u need it here I pick up the pencil, but I ask myself, "Why?" I have no story to tell, no pain, no reason to write. Staring at the blank page, a thought (snaps her fingers) wanders before me. I see a spark. Reaching out to grab it, my hands stretched out as far as I can, and - - nothing! It's all lost: all thought, all purpose. So I stare at the paper again - for hours it seems! As I look up at the clock shining 1 p.m., I was ready to take a break. Standing up, fist clenched, shoulders broadened - until I had realized I'd started at 12:59. And that hunched me back over while releasing a sigh. So I continue to stare, waiting for that booklet of notebook paper to work its magic, to stare back at me, and blink. That is what fules me a sense of accomplishment that I couldn't receive from the clock. As the time slips away, I realize I'm not alone, lost and abandoned in this blank page. So when you find yourself, and you're reaching for that sparkle, ready to grab it, but pull when you have emotion [that] builds up inside, but [you] can't seem to find the words to release and to release you, I am trapped, my feet glued to the floor, a cluttered closet of insignificant thoughts, searching for the one to set me free, to fill up the emptiness of that blank page. But this time, this time, when I look back at that page, I see words. So when you battle with that first blank page, those words you can't seem to find, just pick up that pencil, as I did mine.

[@adheenagopi]

my reci is there...and I'm super nervous abt that...pls guys...pray 4 me..wish m e well

[@ANEESHAVV]

Wow nice i give you a big 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

[@RenatoPogeh-n1h]

So great 🎉🎉🎉

[@judahgottlieb4586]

kid how are you so confident

[@umarmirza7023]

Guys i literally just searched it . the poem is called the writers block

[@umarmirza7023]

She's sooo flipping pretty she looks like my cousin lol.Wow that poem is just amazing for a how ever old she is but for a kid wow

[@umarmirza7023]

oh apparently asha was 9 when she performed this. She's currently 13 or 12

[@asmiaryal2203]

Wow

[@afeefa961]

Umar Mirza mee too I though she was 15.

[@annlysharen]

Tmmrrw Im gonna recite this poem in my school competion.. It is really great.. Love this poem.. 😍😍😍

[@AsifAli-tl9wq]

beautiful read the poem

[@kanishkabhise996]

Wow so confident ☺️ superb

[@idvlogs2.0]

Can you please give the lyrics of this poem

[@bonalisacotopeti7094]

Fantastic Asha I love you and the expression you have.

[@hvurx]

*I have to watch this for Quarintine homework, WHY ARE WE STARTING SKOOL IN DE MIDDLE OF ZE SUMMER :

[@tomcolman2828]

same reason

[@asmijadhav7763]

What is this poem called I want to perform it I am a big fan of asha

[@Isabbellla]

It's called writers block by Asha Christensen =) I pick up the pencil, but I ask myself, "Why?" I have no story to tell, no pain, no reason to write. Staring at the blank page, a thought (snaps her fingers) wanders before me. I see a spark. Reaching out to grab it, my hands stretched out as far as I can, and - - nothing! It's all lost: all thought, all purpose. So I stare at the paper again - for hours it seems! As I look up at the clock shining 1 p.m., I was ready to take a break. Standing up, fist clenched, shoulders broadened - until I had realized I'd started at 12:59. And that hunched me back over while releasing a sigh. So I continue to stare, waiting for that booklet of notebook paper to work its magic, to stare back at me, and blink. That is what fules me a sense of accomplishment that I couldn't receive from the clock. As the time slips away, I realize I'm not alone, lost and abandoned in this blank page. So when you find yourself, and you're reaching for that sparkle, ready to grab it, but pull when you have emotion [that] builds up inside, but [you] can't seem to find the words to release and to release you, I am trapped, my feet glued to the floor, a cluttered closet of insignificant thoughts, searching for the one to set me free, to fill up the emptiness of that blank page. But this time, this time, when I look back at that page, I see words. So when you battle with that first blank page, those words you can't seem to find, just pick up that pencil, as I did mine.

[@myiesha162]

I have to recite this poem and I’m like..they expect me to be this awesome!!

[@najmaansar4427]

Her confidence❤😊

[@farhanabbas758]

From where I can get the lyrics of this poem??? And also the name of the poem

[@Isabbellla]

It's called "writers block" If u need it here it is =) I pick up the pencil, but I ask myself, "Why?" I have no story to tell, no pain, no reason to write. Staring at the blank page, a thought (snaps her fingers) wanders before me. I see a spark. Reaching out to grab it, my hands stretched out as far as I can, and - - nothing! It's all lost: all thought, all purpose. So I stare at the paper again - for hours it seems! As I look up at the clock shining 1 p.m., I was ready to take a break. Standing up, fist clenched, shoulders broadened - until I had realized I'd started at 12:59. And that hunched me back over while releasing a sigh. So I continue to stare, waiting for that booklet of notebook paper to work its magic, to stare back at me, and blink. That is what fules me a sense of accomplishment that I couldn't receive from the clock. As the time slips away, I realize I'm not alone, lost and abandoned in this blank page. So when you find yourself, and you're reaching for that sparkle, ready to grab it, but pull when you have emotion [that] builds up inside, but [you] can't seem to find the words to release and to release you, I am trapped, my feet glued to the floor, a cluttered closet of insignificant thoughts, searching for the one to set me free, to fill up the emptiness of that blank page. But this time, this time, when I look back at that page, I see words. So when you battle with that first blank page, those words you can't seem to find, just pick up that pencil, as I did mine.

[@farhanabbas758]

@@Isabbellla thankyou🐼

[@Isabbellla]

@@farhanabbas758 no problemm =) happy to help :))

[@SugaCookiee]

Her English skills is fluence! But is this a poetry competition?

[@bholaprasadsharma1757]

No just a public platform to show up ur skills

[@SugaCookiee]

bhola sharma Oh, that’s nice! Thanks for replying ☺️☺️

[@Koolkamii]

This is my home work assignment 😢😢😢

[@sitsite7597]

Waittt sameeee

[@horminmangfi5653]

The emotions she speaks with,are so real!

[@eboby1058]

this was what my teacher said to watch lol

[@Angelfam124]

Positive thoughts 🥰🥹😍

[@richardezungmusic123]

Amazing Asha

[@johnstonlynn3338]

Hi

[@nazmulislamplabon]

Where is Asha now?

[@najmaansar4427]

Her hair bow slayed it 😂isn’t

[@mantashaa4631]

The name of the poem

[@sarojinigarnaik9661]

This is I pick up the pencil

[@r.dhivya9024]

Tho poets block

[@bholaprasadsharma1757]

The writer's block

[@axxitheweirdo4598]

Great job Asha, really didn’t expect that (in a good way) y the funny thing is im like the same age as her in that year! Also we are doing this in school:(

[@dulquersalmaan7150]

Hello Asha I like your poem recitation

[@sveltesag8748]

Can anyone plz tell me the full name of the poet and the name of this poem?? 😍

[@reemriza3197]

Plz

[@bholaprasadsharma1757]

So u need it for a competition Good or great cause I recited this poem last yr and won the first prize. Okay , poet or poetess is she Asha Christensen herself. And the name is a writer's block.

[@gozmo7658]

My teacher bought me here....

[@maemolleno3195]

me too

[@CelestialBanana]

She goes to my school!

[@horminmangfi5653]

Not anymore! :)

[@horminmangfi5653]

But she is bi-racial,right?

[@CallumMcBride-q9l]

well according to my calculations i don't take the time to ask why did i pick up a pencil (o)(o)

[@DIVYANSH_RAJPUT_7503]

There is a lyrics of the poem

[@akkusenu6613]

Lyrics

[@Isabbellla]

I pick up the pencil, but I ask myself, "Why?" I have no story to tell, no pain, no reason to write. Staring at the blank page, a thought (snaps her fingers) wanders before me. I see a spark. Reaching out to grab it, my hands stretched out as far as I can, and - - nothing! It's all lost: all thought, all purpose. So I stare at the paper again - for hours it seems! As I look up at the clock shining 1 p.m., I was ready to take a break. Standing up, fist clenched, shoulders broadened - until I had realized I'd started at 12:59. And that hunched me back over while releasing a sigh. So I continue to stare, waiting for that booklet of notebook paper to work its magic, to stare back at me, and blink. That is what fules me a sense of accomplishment that I couldn't receive from the clock. As the time slips away, I realize I'm not alone, lost and abandoned in this blank page. So when you find yourself, and you're reaching for that sparkle, ready to grab it, but pull when you have emotion [that] builds up inside, but [you] can't seem to find the words to release and to release you, I am trapped, my feet glued to the floor, a cluttered closet of insignificant thoughts, searching for the one to set me free, to fill up the emptiness of that blank page. But this time, this time, when I look back at that page, I see words. So when you battle with that first blank page, those words you can't seem to find, just pick up that pencil, as I did mine.

[@Isabbellla]

@@akkusenu6613 I pick up the pencil, but I ask myself, "Why?" I have no story to tell, no pain, no reason to write. Staring at the blank page, a thought (snaps her fingers) wanders before me. I see a spark. Reaching out to grab it, my hands stretched out as far as I can, and - - nothing! It's all lost: all thought, all purpose. So I stare at the paper again - for hours it seems! As I look up at the clock shining 1 p.m., I was ready to take a break. Standing up, fist clenched, shoulders broadened - until I had realized I'd started at 12:59. And that hunched me back over while releasing a sigh. So I continue to stare, waiting for that booklet of notebook paper to work its magic, to stare back at me, and blink. That is what fules me a sense of accomplishment that I couldn't receive from the clock. As the time slips away, I realize I'm not alone, lost and abandoned in this blank page. So when you find yourself, and you're reaching for that sparkle, ready to grab it, but pull when you have emotion [that] builds up inside, but [you] can't seem to find the words to release and to release you, I am trapped, my feet glued to the floor, a cluttered closet of insignificant thoughts, searching for the one to set me free, to fill up the emptiness of that blank page. But this time, this time, when I look back at that page, I see words. So when you battle with that first blank page, those words you can't seem to find, just pick up that pencil, as I did mine.

[@Daisy-tt1uw]

I don't think this was easy at all, but the way that she threw her meter around was frustrating. She is on track for greatness, yet must delve deeper into the strategy of using her voice to share her story. Dynamics are okay, but will only enhance in certain situations. I am a youngish poet too.

[@SrijanBhunia]

The new rules will be the first to become

[@channelofeverything488]

Even I want to perform here, I would love to be on this stage!!

[@rajjadhav8085]

thank u very much

[@ditinyashi65]

Superb.. well done. Go ahead.. stay blessed

[@akanshajindal5044]

will anyone please tell the details of it

[@shajudheenshaji6006]

Good

[@abidapv7639]

Who wrote this poem? What's the name of this poem

[@ariella118]

Its called writer's block and it's by Asha Christensen.

[@iam_Shreya987]

Really I want give you a big hand 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏 . My daughter spoke this in a competition and won first🥇 prize.

[@wherearethebeans6065]

wow just wow

[@mmshaikh3182]

Has she written the poem?

[@Isabbellla]

Yepp she's the poet =)

[@rakhisingh1946]

So nice😄😄😄

[@aryashaji4965]

asha it was realyy amazinggg...... cn u hlp me guys???????? may i knw who is the poet n what is the name of this poem???????

[@Isabbellla]

Writers block by Asha Christensen =) I pick up the pencil, but I ask myself, "Why?" I have no story to tell, no pain, no reason to write. Staring at the blank page, a thought (snaps her fingers) wanders before me. I see a spark. Reaching out to grab it, my hands stretched out as far as I can, and - - nothing! It's all lost: all thought, all purpose. So I stare at the paper again - for hours it seems! As I look up at the clock shining 1 p.m., I was ready to take a break. Standing up, fist clenched, shoulders broadened - until I had realized I'd started at 12:59. And that hunched me back over while releasing a sigh. So I continue to stare, waiting for that booklet of notebook paper to work its magic, to stare back at me, and blink. That is what fules me a sense of accomplishment that I couldn't receive from the clock. As the time slips away, I realize I'm not alone, lost and abandoned in this blank page. So when you find yourself, and you're reaching for that sparkle, ready to grab it, but pull when you have emotion [that] builds up inside, but [you] can't seem to find the words to release and to release you, I am trapped, my feet glued to the floor, a cluttered closet of insignificant thoughts, searching for the one to set me free, to fill up the emptiness of that blank page. But this time, this time, when I look back at that page, I see words. So when you battle with that first blank page, those words you can't seem to find, just pick up that pencil, as I did mine.

[@aryashaji4965]

@@Isabbellla thanks a lot.

[@r3ktasolid627]

Sino nandito dahil sa ACHIVEMENT TEST? 👇❤ WHAHAHAHAA PAREHO TAYO!!

[@zackeliasllavore8069]

Hoy Si Emerson!!!11!

[@sabanees]

Please tell the name of the poet and the poem?

[@amegha6724]

Sabeena Anees This poem is called WRITERS BLOCK

[@Isabbellla]

And its by Asha Christensen

[@nishairshad5940]

Nice speach asha😍😍

[@minisunny3842]

love it Asha.....good job😇

[@sreenivasaraopilla7894]

is this enacting a poem or reciting a poem??

[@md.mohsin6039]

Asha is a word from Bangla language. I wonder who kept this name

[@eno4638]

what is the meaning of the video?

[@eno4638]

help me.

[@adnanmc5285]

In my opinion this is better than 'oh captian'. U r amazing!!!! This is.......

[@ashaL.chand7160]

She is so confident

[@abforreal]

wow I had to listen to this in class

[@alpha1344]

What is the name of the poem ??

[@Isabbellla]

It's called writers block =) I pick up the pencil, but I ask myself, "Why?" I have no story to tell, no pain, no reason to write. Staring at the blank page, a thought (snaps her fingers) wanders before me. I see a spark. Reaching out to grab it, my hands stretched out as far as I can, and - - nothing! It's all lost: all thought, all purpose. So I stare at the paper again - for hours it seems! As I look up at the clock shining 1 p.m., I was ready to take a break. Standing up, fist clenched, shoulders broadened - until I had realized I'd started at 12:59. And that hunched me back over while releasing a sigh. So I continue to stare, waiting for that booklet of notebook paper to work its magic, to stare back at me, and blink. That is what fules me a sense of accomplishment that I couldn't receive from the clock. As the time slips away, I realize I'm not alone, lost and abandoned in this blank page. So when you find yourself, and you're reaching for that sparkle, ready to grab it, but pull when you have emotion [that] builds up inside, but [you] can't seem to find the words to release and to release you, I am trapped, my feet glued to the floor, a cluttered closet of insignificant thoughts, searching for the one to set me free, to fill up the emptiness of that blank page. But this time, this time, when I look back at that page, I see words. So when you battle with that first blank page, those words you can't seem to find, just pick up that pencil, as I did mine.

[@samysmn7823]

It's really so amusing may God bless you

[@newtext6542]

Can I get its lyrics?

[@Isabbellla]

Sure here =) I pick up the pencil, but I ask myself, "Why?" I have no story to tell, no pain, no reason to write. Staring at the blank page, a thought (snaps her fingers) wanders before me. I see a spark. Reaching out to grab it, my hands stretched out as far as I can, and - - nothing! It's all lost: all thought, all purpose. So I stare at the paper again - for hours it seems! As I look up at the clock shining 1 p.m., I was ready to take a break. Standing up, fist clenched, shoulders broadened - until I had realized I'd started at 12:59. And that hunched me back over while releasing a sigh. So I continue to stare, waiting for that booklet of notebook paper to work its magic, to stare back at me, and blink. That is what fules me a sense of accomplishment that I couldn't receive from the clock. As the time slips away, I realize I'm not alone, lost and abandoned in this blank page. So when you find yourself, and you're reaching for that sparkle, ready to grab it, but pull when you have emotion [that] builds up inside, but [you] can't seem to find the words to release and to release you, I am trapped, my feet glued to the floor, a cluttered closet of insignificant thoughts, searching for the one to set me free, to fill up the emptiness of that blank page. But this time, this time, when I look back at that page, I see words. So when you battle with that first blank page, those words you can't seem to find, just pick up that pencil, as I did mine.

[@kimkwet4721]

wow she's amazing!

[@Jxst._stvr]

Hah

[@evwrwoni]

Who else is here for school???? :(

[@maninatarajan5437]

She is asha christensen and

[@anushkapujara2574]

What is the name of the poem and the poet?

[@Isabbellla]

Writers block by Asha Christensen =) I'd u need it, here I pick up the pencil, but I ask myself, "Why?" I have no story to tell, no pain, no reason to write. Staring at the blank page, a thought (snaps her fingers) wanders before me. I see a spark. Reaching out to grab it, my hands stretched out as far as I can, and - - nothing! It's all lost: all thought, all purpose. So I stare at the paper again - for hours it seems! As I look up at the clock shining 1 p.m., I was ready to take a break. Standing up, fist clenched, shoulders broadened - until I had realized I'd started at 12:59. And that hunched me back over while releasing a sigh. So I continue to stare, waiting for that booklet of notebook paper to work its magic, to stare back at me, and blink. That is what fules me a sense of accomplishment that I couldn't receive from the clock. As the time slips away, I realize I'm not alone, lost and abandoned in this blank page. So when you find yourself, and you're reaching for that sparkle, ready to grab it, but pull when you have emotion [that] builds up inside, but [you] can't seem to find the words to release and to release you, I am trapped, my feet glued to the floor, a cluttered closet of insignificant thoughts, searching for the one to set me free, to fill up the emptiness of that blank page. But this time, this time, when I look back at that page, I see words. So when you battle with that first blank page, those words you can't seem to find, just pick up that pencil, as I did mine.

[@najmaansar4427]

❤tnks

[@NeelamKumari-mu7se]

Fantastically she presented the poem👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻🤩🤩

[@ravindrasadanshiv4033]

Owesome😊😊

[@aadhilks33]

Where will i get the subtitles

[@Isabbellla]

If u still need it, here it is =) I pick up the pencil, but I ask myself, "Why?" I have no story to tell, no pain, no reason to write. Staring at the blank page, a thought (snaps her fingers) wanders before me. I see a spark. Reaching out to grab it, my hands stretched out as far as I can, and - - nothing! It's all lost: all thought, all purpose. So I stare at the paper again - for hours it seems! As I look up at the clock shining 1 p.m., I was ready to take a break. Standing up, fist clenched, shoulders broadened - until I had realized I'd started at 12:59. And that hunched me back over while releasing a sigh. So I continue to stare, waiting for that booklet of notebook paper to work its magic, to stare back at me, and blink. That is what fules me a sense of accomplishment that I couldn't receive from the clock. As the time slips away, I realize I'm not alone, lost and abandoned in this blank page. So when you find yourself, and you're reaching for that sparkle, ready to grab it, but pull when you have emotion [that] builds up inside, but [you] can't seem to find the words to release and to release you, I am trapped, my feet glued to the floor, a cluttered closet of insignificant thoughts, searching for the one to set me free, to fill up the emptiness of that blank page. But this time, this time, when I look back at that page, I see words. So when you battle with that first blank page, those words you can't seem to find, just pick up that pencil, as I did mine.

[@sailasachan7445]

What is the name of storyy.....😶

[@shradhanand_joshi]

Thank u

[@naeema1025]

Is anyone know the name of this poem ?

[@riyak3886]

Very good

[@dikshanahata192]

sir I write poems too and am in search of platform if u could help

[@mmshaikh3182]

diksha nahata me too

[@haiderbangdiwala7116]

Awesome 👍

[@jackwilson8866]

this is so true as a songwriter

[@shaiyanislam6755]

Wondrous talk

[@kashfialatafat8301]

what is the name of the poem

[@leamerebosura6572]

Kashfia latafat pick up the pencil

[@aishathshahuzana3897]

Writers block

[@Isabbellla]

It's called writers block by Asha Christensen I pick up the pencil, but I ask myself, "Why?" I have no story to tell, no pain, no reason to write. Staring at the blank page, a thought (snaps her fingers) wanders before me. I see a spark. Reaching out to grab it, my hands stretched out as far as I can, and - - nothing! It's all lost: all thought, all purpose. So I stare at the paper again - for hours it seems! As I look up at the clock shining 1 p.m., I was ready to take a break. Standing up, fist clenched, shoulders broadened - until I had realized I'd started at 12:59. And that hunched me back over while releasing a sigh. So I continue to stare, waiting for that booklet of notebook paper to work its magic, to stare back at me, and blink. That is what fules me a sense of accomplishment that I couldn't receive from the clock. As the time slips away, I realize I'm not alone, lost and abandoned in this blank page. So when you find yourself, and you're reaching for that sparkle, ready to grab it, but pull when you have emotion [that] builds up inside, but [you] can't seem to find the words to release and to release you, I am trapped, my feet glued to the floor, a cluttered closet of insignificant thoughts, searching for the one to set me free, to fill up the emptiness of that blank page. But this time, this time, when I look back at that page, I see words. So when you battle with that first blank page, those words you can't seem to find, just pick up that pencil, as I did mine.

[@tmwiley11]

She’s smart

[@ayaatart495]

Whats the name of this poem?

[@ashaapspalanisamy4936]

It's amazing

[@CharanSingh-zs9vr]

What's her poem name?

[@ajithkumar4904]

Does anyone know the name of the poet and poem.

[@Isabbellla]

Hiii its called Writers block by Asha Christensen =) and if u need this, here I pick up the pencil, but I ask myself, "Why?" I have no story to tell, no pain, no reason to write. Staring at the blank page, a thought (snaps her fingers) wanders before me. I see a spark. Reaching out to grab it, my hands stretched out as far as I can, and - - nothing! It's all lost: all thought, all purpose. So I stare at the paper again - for hours it seems! As I look up at the clock shining 1 p.m., I was ready to take a break. Standing up, fist clenched, shoulders broadened - until I had realized I'd started at 12:59. And that hunched me back over while releasing a sigh. So I continue to stare, waiting for that booklet of notebook paper to work its magic, to stare back at me, and blink. That is what fules me a sense of accomplishment that I couldn't receive from the clock. As the time slips away, I realize I'm not alone, lost and abandoned in this blank page. So when you find yourself, and you're reaching for that sparkle, ready to grab it, but pull when you have emotion [that] builds up inside, but [you] can't seem to find the words to release and to release you, I am trapped, my feet glued to the floor, a cluttered closet of insignificant thoughts, searching for the one to set me free, to fill up the emptiness of that blank page. But this time, this time, when I look back at that page, I see words. So when you battle with that first blank page, those words you can't seem to find, just pick up that pencil, as I did mine.

[@Bnkadeeja]

who wrote the poem?

[@re-anndutoit7041]

Am I allowed to use this poem for competition at school please I really enjoyed it tremendously.

[@DecentKiwi]

That’s nice 👌