You'Ll Find Me Before the Ink Is Dry
My inky echoes conflate,
atop mountains of ivory versos;
Blank pages into whispers,
like the sway of moonlight tides;
Papers dappled by my ineffable,
frays of jet-black cursive swirls;
My best ideas are forever found,
somewhere amidst silent worlds;
'Tis best to search for me right before,
the feathery quill touches to the page;
Arisen from the blotter, my hand held in totter,
but before I drizzle down the tar;
Where my psyche thinks loud,
with the rhythm and the rage;
A battle-ballet of coarse cashmere haze,
only then does my heart think to open up its cage;
Still I promise to always behave like a poet,
one who is the epitome of an idyllic odist;
Solemn ink be my savior, perhaps a mind lost in time,
resonant verse between blinks, my soul in the lines--
March 15, 2016
Copyright © Sam Jameson | Year Posted 2016
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