A Tale That Cannot End

Posted by WilkyBarKid on November 18, 2010 - 09:28

I find my name in notebooks,
where I practised my signature
for when I would be famous.

John, John, John, in loops
that form a womb for letters:
embryos from which all stories grow.

So much spent on the selection,
yet pages remain blank
and ink dries solid in the nibs.

Now I scratch, scratch in circles
and make a hole:
a whirlpool to drown words.

A tale that cannot end
is one that is not told.

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Comments

Oh yes, I do like this piece very much.

I'm liking it too.

I really enjoyed. A great poem, well done on the cherry-richly deserved.

Beeme xx

new julie
Me too says the same, great poem.
well done on the cherry! too.
julie x cavalcader

I really enjoyed this. I read it a couple of times because I loved the imagery. Great job!

It smacks of desperation when I write about not writing, but I'm glad to have struck a chord with readers. It's not just me then.

Great stuff, love the last two lines- very true.