Ink runs in my veins
Consumes every thought and dream
So I cover every surface with it
I brush my pen against the silky surface
Forming figures on an empty sky
Clean and clear, only to be blurred
Scratches against white paper
Smears of life on blank canvas
A drop of ink blood runs across the page
My hand brushes the wet spot
Black silhouette of a mistake
And spreads it like butter on toast
Letters of no meaning rise, gleaming
Growing into words, silly words
That have too much power
I need to feel the power of these words
Hear the scritch-scratch of a pen
As I carve images out of nothing
Until the ink releases me again
Author notes
Written for a school project, earlier this week.
How did you feel when you read this?
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Another great poem, It really shows how much you want to be an author and writer. I like that you portray your dreams of writing through a written piece.
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Fantastic!
For a while I thought you were going AWOL with love. But now I'm relieved to see Radiance at her lyrical, imaginative best!
You had me hooked right through the poem, from start to finish! The imagery was exquisite and wonderous. The disassociation with words and images conjured such a viperous blend of potency of thought and transparency of mind.
Short, sharp and sweet. Fantastic poem!
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Sorry about the love thing. My friends and I are trying to compose/write some original songs, and that's all I can come up with at the moment! 
Thank you for continuing to read my work. I really appreciate it.
And I'm glad you liked this particular piece; it was one of my favorites.
Thanks again! -
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That's quite alright... as long as the love thing is nothing more than a passing phenomenon. I look only forward in more exciting pieces from you! No pressure.
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AMAZED!!!!!
this was totalllllly awesome!!!!!!! i loved it!!!! it made me think the hole time! awesome rite!!!!
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