From Storms of Ink & Fire
Artistic paper clouds swarm overhead,
though none dare block their guiding candlelight.
With fervent minds ablaze, the weavers shed
their liquid words from skies of published white.
Amidst their turbulent transparent hands
and squalls of adamant prolific flames,
there teems a river of surreal demands
in which the authors know to never tame.
The world below is singed by shapeless black,
but still it pines for leaves with dusky print.
One cannot know when such a hail will slack,
for fiction-fall is surely heaven sent.
With reckless haste, a writer's deep desires
rain down from storms of vivid ink and fire!
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
