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Wasted Ink.
Rhymes fall cold upon the floor..
blind they run
beyond my saddened
pen to pause,
lost upon the page
that shuns their touch.
Those words, new born
unused redundant ink
has cast away.
Rhymes fall cold upon the floor..
blind they run
beyond my saddened
pen to pause,
lost upon the page
that shuns their touch.
Those words, new born
unused redundant ink
has cast away.
the lonliness of words that
the lonliness of words that refuse to accompany each other often lead to gems like this.
Glad you splashed your ink into submission. Nicely stated. :)
It's Thank you, it's a bit of
Thank you, it's a bit of a weird thing though: writing a poem that says 'I can't write a poem'! Although I'm still awaiting inspiration for something more, whatever that is. sue :-)