The letters curved themselves
upon the blank white paper
and went to sleep.
Time froze upon the layers
of dust on the old table.
Wind was trapped in the leaves
of the fan.
Some thoughts ran wildly
from the tip of the pen,
Piercing through the calm
of the closed books.
A voice demanded to be heard,
A face wanted recognition.
Everyone - smug, trapped or awakened,
Strives to earn their place.
Come, join the rank.
upon the blank white paper
and went to sleep.
of dust on the old table.
Wind was trapped in the leaves
of the fan.
Some thoughts ran wildly
from the tip of the pen,
Piercing through the calm
of the closed books.
A voice demanded to be heard,
A face wanted recognition.
Everyone - smug, trapped or awakened,
Strives to earn their place.
Come, join the rank.
2 comments:
I'm not sure how the tag lonliness fits in, though my first perception on this was that your talking about Writers.
in a way...maybe you are, cos all writers are alone somewhat and crave acceptance to an extent...
"The letters curved themselves
upon the blank white paper
and went to sleep."
this part made my hair stand on end...
Thanks Dash... ya, it's about writers primarily, but it applies to anyone who wants to express themselves differently, through the arts.
Glad you liked the lines. Will try to churn out more of those hair-straightening lines!!! LOL
Post a Comment