PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

More Than Scribbles

The pen does not speak—

it holds its silence in a chamber,

a reservoir where sentences

float unformed,

dark rivers stalled

before the mouth of paper.

Each droplet is a thought

waiting for gravity’s compunction,

a poem in liquid pause,

its capillary compression

held at the narrow throat of the nib.

The pipeline presses with pressure,

yet nothing escapes—

until the hand inclines,

and gravity leans through the hinge,

drawing futures downward

onto a waiting page.

There, a stained tributary

eddies downstream,

curling into margins,

its current carrying fragments

toward the widening mouth of breath.

A single line spills,

a thought becomes visible,

the poem begins to breathe.

.

.