It's three AM, but I don't know that
Because the pen and my hand are still dancing
And, right now, writing feels like
A race I'm running but never advancing
Oh, he'll say it's good
And she'll say what it means
But, as I've slowly learned
This is not what it seems
I don't know what I'm writing
Once I'm done sighing
About it
There have been those
Who are impressed with what I've done
But I've searched for critics
And I'm the only one
They won't tell me how undone I know it is
Haunting thoughts lurk in
The darkness of my mind
But if I were to write about them
I know I'd only find
I'm strongly addicted to your bittersweet kisses
As the pen and my hand
Waltz across the ballroom page
Thoughts of your smile
Drown out my conserved rage
And I can't be angry;
I know that you love me, too
I thought I needed this black-inked pen
More than anything else
But now I muse silently
As I'm slowly loosing myself
I'd give all my inks just to stand near you
Author notes
I know, it falls apart at the end. I still kinda like the images, and at least it's not too obscure. I also liked the varying structure. So nyah.
A contest entry
- India Ink by Danna Hobart.
400 points, ended April 8, 7 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Does it stray too far from the original message?
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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Thanks for entering.
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-_-' Thanks for the input. Sorry it wasn't what you were looking for.
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this was nice, especially how your hand dances and ballroom waltzs across the poems floor. (mine always seem to cramp up and try to trip me)
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Well, to be honest, in this particular poem my hand grew feet, and both of them were left. But I'm glad you liked my imagery; that's why I submitted it at all.
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I like this and because I am prone to doodling in pen and ink, I wonder what it would take to give them up - I'm reminded of a writer I once read about who was in prison without tools to record anything and he memorized all his poems that he wrote in his head - Maybe this would be a good entry for the new Indian Ink contest: http://allpoetry.com/contest/2439277
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That is a scary thought - to be trapped with no ink anywhere? It makes me shudder . . . Thank you, I will look into that contest and I appreciate your attention.
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It's neat how it flows in and out of rhyme. I think the part about how no one tells you how terrible it is, is very good. I think it's so true that we can be our worst critic. It may have strayed a bit at the ending, but maybe this poem was meant to be a bit random, like a journal entry. You know?
PoeticThunder* -
It does kinda fall apart at the end, but that's what writing is all about, and it still fits in with the context of the poem. The middle section of the poem is the best, in my opinion, because it is difficult to write as eloquently as you managed.
Still lovin' your style.
Katriana xXx
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