Ink drops
From pen
Almost drips
The words
Out of my thoughts
Lucidly forming shapes
A snake on the paper
Forming an S, a T
An I
-ING,
Stinging bitter memory
The inspirations for my words
Stinging rolling tears
Lolling on my face
For what seems like eternity
No-one really understands
Being in an abyss
Being void
Devoid of it all
These reds
These blues
Purples
Greens
Going nowhere
Lacking it all
Passion
Define me
Vanity
Find me
And the poetry...
Why not lay down my pen?
Tis an extra limb
Displaying my soul
For all to see
Sometimes
I believe
It is the reason I can’t feel
So I will lay down my pen
Sever that limb
With sickle
A cloth torn at the hem
It will be torn through
Utterly split
I will return
Burdened with truth again
Comments
MistakenMagic | January 13, 2010 - 09:52
I think every writer fights with their pen and gets frustrated at times - and you've beautifully personified this feeling! Love the description of the pen as an extra limb!
Magic xxx
shoe | January 13, 2010 - 11:00
A wonderful internal struggle,:~}
EpheLuwe | January 13, 2010 - 16:15
Thank you MistakenMagic and shoe :)
This is my last poem for a while mainly because I lack inspiritation right now. Im going to start writing story's then maybe return to poetry later on. It will be an interestin journey. Thank you for appreciating my last :)
-Oscuro
Yazmin | January 17, 2010 - 19:55
Hey Ephraim
I totally get how you feel, I feel exactly the same, but dont give up, you'll get inspired eventually. I enjoyed reading this.
Yaz x