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Click herewriting graciously on angry paper
Outside, my mind's lips whisper
to fingers graciously gliding over gilded lines.
Exhaling passion heavily in earnest
my cursive breath made the paper rise.
I inhaled deeply a hot thought of a summer scent
and the paper died, but its spirit revived
in a gust. That breeze that brings life
to thoughts.
I grasped the angry page in a death grip,
demanding it receive thoughts I penned.
Reaching for a draft to strangle hold,
mere dust devils in tornado training.
I swirled in the literary sand box of white
building images to be granules
in the wind.
Tattooing saw dust and glue,
branding this albino creature,
its wings slapping the table
as a breeze passed by. Wanting to fly.
Showing its temperament in a rustled tantrum
while I held it down. Tackling corner pages
still wanting to fight.
A chained slave the paper whimpers
pleading in ripples upon its fringes.
I drive a spear across its flesh,
my patriot the pen killing sentences.
Submissive ink did as it was told, scrolled,
writing graciously on angry paper.
This is the best work of yours that I have read so far. I know it is not easy dealing with that angry paper.
i really enjoyed this poem! while it's non-erotic in context, and i think really captures the struggle of writing, the imagery and language seemed very erotic to me (or maybe that's just how my mind works). it was a pleasure to read.
especially this line--
I swirled in the literary sand box of white
good work, getting better ;)
maria
I agree with others here; this is leaps and bounds ahead of most of your other poetry. I suppose that's something of a backhanded compliment, though. How about this, then: Excellent write!
Very poetic title and much better poem than your usual poetry. Like R.M., I see "problems" with the poem, but if you keep writing like this (and you're willing to learn) you'll eventually improve enough to come back and confidently edit this piece. :)