Ink and Paper
With awkward reach
the strike of the pen has tipped the ink well
splattering onto white paper,
vanquishing the lyrics from the poet’s pen,
scribbling vignettes of joy or strife,
little stories-a slice of life.
His pen shall not find its perfect labor
scribed upon this miscued, defaced paper
to define his words of fire or ice
Though in this blot of ink a portrait seen
a mirror of the artist's gaze
where the vision writes the stories
of imaginary words unseen.
The poet’s eye beholds as his heart summons
from the library of memories that phrase
drafting a vignette of this wraith’s meaning
Now the poet speaks while his mind is dreaming:
‘Tis raven’s wings spread to fly on a mystical flight
drawn into a universe of beaming light
‘Tis free falling souls swimming unfurled
in brimming tears drowning in a homeless world
Or, could it be the sweat of a laboring farmer’s pain
falling on the dry, unforgiving soil as he waits for rain
Maybe the blood of perished soldiers who have gone before
fallen in the wastes of war
It could simply be the scribbling of butterflies delight
imprinting beauty on their tenured flight
Or, the glorious colliding of glistening shards that careen
from exploding castaway stars on a palette of gleam
And through his persuasion of free falling thought,
he is challenged by the aspect of black to white-
its perception is what its opposite has wrought
When the light is turned off
When the sun has disappeared
The night weaves our intricacy
The magic of contrast is what we see
Black in its extinction takes its space
in a void of emptiness to embrace
the borderless place that absorbs us
Defining our imperceptible selves
With only the light of understanding that will tell
the glow of purpose inside all of us
The verse is scribed……..
The meaning defined……
The contrast is sublime
April 30, 2022
Our Truth Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker
Copyright © Lonna Blodgett | Year Posted 2022
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