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Pen and Fingers Wish to Transfuse.
Stains and more stains on these fingertips
that mingle with the blistered blood raised
trying to write my passions for you
each one no match for words in these
ever pathically abled searching scribbles.
You deftly defy all worthy imagery
and as I lay here in thought
it is the only way to do you any justice
to write naught and contemplate your exquisitry
(for want of a better word)
in pure nervanic thought.
Stains upon stains mixed with blood,
Alas, my tips wont let it rest
I can not do nothing when
Both pen and fingers wish to transfuse.
liked it.
liked your poem.
Wow! Wtf!? Brilliant! Love
Wow! Wtf!? Brilliant! Love this!!, hugss
Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS
"Well, it's love, but not as we know it."
Wow! Best poem I've read
Wow! Best poem I've read since ages!
Dont look for me, I'll find you ~Moonshadow
Mmmm, nice. You may not be
Mmmm, nice. You may not be receiving clarity, but you certainly have expressed it. Wonderfully written. Thank you for sharing your own 'exquisitry'!!
.............
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "
i write and i paint trying to
i write and i paint trying to catch the right moment in time
trying to find the essenve of your beauty i feel in adequite but i paint on
i feel your heart beat i can see the beauty with in you are alive
the essence of my mind good poem ron
ron parrish