clouds slaughter rainbows,

expectant mothers cries ,

every other wound heals,

you can knock on doors

but who will answer ,

not a man with a golden goblet

who watched you

cast over a precipice

saved by a pen stabbed into

stubborn rock,

white rock

unheeding to your cries

crack appears

fissure to place your mind

letting thoughts expand,

pressured opening

wider

a flow of cerebral digestion

spilling over

staining with a curious purpose

from here others see the marks

a territory of mind and heart,

and will learn

to be as you are

or better,

scabbing crusting

around edges

salted tears

as you pick and worry,

yet stand firm

words stoic and resolute

to others scrutiny

a whale sings

no torment,

inspiring

extending pen to another’s hand ,

goats run in the enclosure,

a dying man has a kiss

and you see the virginity of

ink taken

and shared,

purpose found

love true

you will now open the door

to those

who knock

dverselogo

 

to share with others your writing and help those who struggle is part of being true to your art

 

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Comments
  1. brian miller says:

    ha. interesting…there are some interesting allusions to myth and epic story in this…i like how you put the pen center stage…the taking of the inks viriginity, ha, that is def my fav part in this…the last 8 lines…

  2. kkkkaty1 says:

    Oh my goodness..this is full of vivid images…I am led through a maze of thoughts about living, writing, feeling and vulnerability…if I have it right….quite spiritual..

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