Framed in Ink

I shall write for you a poem,
no better or no worse,
than are poems of other women
who write in metered verse.

But in my words you’ll hear my heart,
its beat in steady pace,
you’ll sense my soul and inner self,
see glimpses of my face.

My spirit soars with pen in hand,
my thoughts then framed in ink,
you’ll find my passions and desires,
you’ll see just how I think.

And on this page I give to you
you’ll find my heart and soul,
one moment I’ll be scattered,
then next you’ll find me whole.

For in my verse I find my voice
and you might hear it too,
on paper I complete myself,
and bare my soul to you.

You’ll learn my fantasies and more,
sorrows and joys of my world,
you’ll sit beside the woman,
and play beside the girl.

Aww, expressed with fluent emotion. well written and structured peice. nice write indeed.

My pen in my hand
Poised above the paper
Like a man behind a woman

With its stiffness
I begin to press its tip into the page
Your body jerks away
As if from a tattooist's needle
Trembling from its pain and its permanence

I stroke your hair reassuringly and tell you:
"It is only words and ink and fantasy"
Your fingers dig into my thigh
Blessing the progress of my prose

"Where are we now?� you ask
"Alone on an island; the world turning only for us"
"Only for us..." you echo back, steadying your breath
" This will be our story" I continue
"Our story..." your voice slowly cracking

Questions consuming you like a forest fire
Or a virus
I lift my pen to remind you
That this is only words and ink and fantasy
...the infection rages on

The diamonds in your eyes become carbon black pebbles
And fall like the shadows of snowflakes

I watch as your skin and your blood
Turn translucent from doubt and from fear
I see your heart
Pulsing like a jellyfish swimming away from me

Helpless, I can only look on
As you reach out, grasping at nothing
Your form fading from my view

I write the final lines in the air
Letters and ink dropping to the floor
Making no sound



misty......

nice one, misty
I have a few poems similar to that one

Selina , this is a good work that you have done . How long have you been writing? I have written off and on for about 19yrs. I wrote this one during the first gulf war in the Red Sea.

A grain of sand.

We are each in ourselves ,
a grain of sand ,
When moved by the wind,
we explore distant lands.
A child at the beach ,
builds castles made of sand .
But this child does not know ,
that what He builds is man.
onecross31