Nothing else matters, walls close in on me, the box i sit in expands into the world the swirls I spill on the page describe...I see everything yet only the ebony ink. Entwined with all i touch, feet curl around the chair, hands press against the page, body sinks into the room. Eyes are lost, completely blind to reality, viewing the fantasy land my hand is scribbling onto the page.
A contest entry
- the room i write in by truembrace.
600 points, ended July 20, 2007, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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interesting choice of form for this -- it certainly does fall into the free verse frame. I rather like the clear thought train of this poem and images that are equally as vivid.
thanks so much for entering this into the contest...
Kim
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