When the
words fall out the ink spills to the floor
Quickly as
the words come – I draw the ink up
To digest
the paper and make of it how it wishes
Admiring
the love making of paper and ink
Artistry
that happens – not planned – not precise
The Euphoria
of words – entranced – it’s a zone
Where all
my confessions of love – feelings – live
The inner
sanctum to my quiet obsession
A place
without boundaries or doors to be locked
My poetry playground - consisting of Just Me
No comments:
Post a Comment