Hushed Lips; Fierce Hands

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: November 16, 2017

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Submitted: November 16, 2017

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My wavering voice grows bold with scribbled words that on a page do bleed.

A gush of muffled roars that, like red blood, splays

Across an unblemished sheet. Streaming tears, that otherwise unfaze,

Scream louder in black and white, demanding you take heed.

Like a breeze rustles the shaky leaves in a booming mead,

Or like a spitting spark that set a flame ablaze,

My pen whispers breath into the word which conveys

Not the same meaning, through speech, with nearly as much creed.

Mulled over; re-written; crossed off, no, crossed out;

Some thoughts are untold, some yet adorned with colour.

Patterns dance madly on a chalk-white slate that moments past, was but a drought,

And messy letters; sloppy lines, give me free rein to err:

Error fuels imagination and a poem starts to flower;

Where my voice fails me dearly, my hand relishes in power.


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