Paper Boats

Poem Info
On creation.
49 words
4.5
762
3
Poem does not have any tags
Share this Poem

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Fold upon fold,
Crease after nail-lined crease,
A meditation,
Worthless
Apart from the act.

A blank page
Before the word,
A single pull,
Intersections take shape,
Nothingness is transformed.

And then we let go,
It floats on riverbeds,
Arriving in another’s hand.

And for that instant,
We are worthy.

Please rate this poem
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
10 Comments
AlitaptapAlitaptapabout 1 year agoAuthor

@Mayday Thank you ❤️ it makes me happy knowing it connected with you. For me, once I let it go, I don’t think of it much. Almost like it has a life of its own and I shouldn’t look at it again and see all the mistakes 😆. It will reach who it needs to reach, it’s passed through me and that’s all that matters.

MaydaypilotMaydaypilotabout 1 year ago

For me, this is every story and every poem I’ve written. The moment I click ‘submit’ is when I release the paper boat into the current. Then so often, snatch it back to change a word or thought. Maybe only a paragraph break. Sometimes snatching it back over and over, even several times in a day, and for days more, and again before the following dawn. Until I finally let it go and stay my doubt. Then I wait…

Did I write well? Will my unseen reader feel my words?

You wrote this poem beautifully.

AlitaptapAlitaptapover 1 year agoAuthor

@Paul4Play Yes, yes, and yes. So happy you saw that :) thank you ❤️

@MediocreAuthor Love your interpretation ❤️ I see poems as Open Things, that allow the reader to place themselves between the spaces of words, and in that way, bringing them to life by saying all that I have left unsaid. Thank you ❤️

MediocreAuthorMediocreAuthorover 1 year ago

I really like this one.

I don't know if this matches authorial intent, but to me, it speaks to silent, quality time spent with a lover. Resting with your body leaning against theirs.

It paper is blank... "wordless." Nothing needs to be communicated.

But the proximity... the form, is what gives it value.

Paul4playPaul4playover 1 year ago

Comment #2:

“On creation”….indeed, the metaphor is not lost on us….the transformation to worthiness…..it is child’s play, but it takes a bit of skill and intention and patience and creativity…..

Of course, we must also let go, so that it can arrive in another’s hand…..it takes two, to be worthy!

Paul4playPaul4playover 1 year ago

Yes, an unequivocal 5 stars!

Your writing creates a deep emotion and mood that is sensory.

Not only am I “there” but I have the “feeling” of being there.

Thank you for sharing your poems with us!

AlitaptapAlitaptapover 1 year agoAuthor

Thank you, BlissMara. So happy this brought those beautiful memories back. Will try my best ❤️

AlitaptapAlitaptapover 1 year agoAuthor

Thanks so much, Elorra. I absolutely love your writing, so you don’t know what this means to me ❤️

BlissMaraBlissMaraover 1 year ago

I agree with Elorra. This is such a lovely snapshot of growing up, hanging out in nature with my brother, doing just this sort of thing. I miss the ease, the innocence of those early days, and you transported me instantly! 5 stars, and keep writing!

AnonymousAnonymousover 1 year ago

This is so sweet and innocent, and brings me back to another time when we made paper boats out of anything and everything we could, pieces of Styrofoam and sticks even with a piece of gum. Sometimes we made the fancy ones with crisp paper, usually newspaper because there's no way mother would let us waste. But it was such a joy to watch them in the little rivers that came from the snowbanks in the early spring. Thank you for this. And don't be discouraged by the poor voting, this is no way worthy of a three. It's a beautiful snapshot into the past. Five stars

Share this Poem

Similar poems

Before I Found You Waiting for you
Wet, Like Wool Missing her
Prisms Beholding one’s reflection.
Driftwood Waiting for your return.
More Stories