(internet photo)
Noise.
Sounds and smells swirl.
A muddy pile
ready for trash can,
or possibly recycling.
Words recycle themselves
on the page,
powerless to escape
the strike of the pen.
Smooth ink flows.
A river confident in its strength,
its ability to carve landscapes,
reshape its borders.
Boundaries.
Fence posts to navigate.
Or, maybe, grab onto
if the water gets too rough.
Black and blue words
on a crumpled page
are rolled tight in a fist
and tossed aside.
Smothered phrases
unable to utter their meaning
sputter and gag as an agitated mind
quickly leaps from one unconnected passionate thought
to another.
Ink rolls smoothly
off the tip of a glib ball point pen,
sassy pink veneer self assured
and cocky.
But the streaky symbols
don’t stand a chance against lightening fast hands;
quick to judge and dispose impressions
before seeing becomes believing
and what is written
might be read as the truth.
Today is day one hundred of posting. Even as I write this I find it hard to believe!
Thank you readers who stop by my site. Thank you everyone who is following this journey with me. I sincerely appreciate your support!
(image credit: gratitude harte)
Keep Digging
Mission continues
peel back layer by layer
hidden treasure waits
Pen sifts muddy thoughts
paper pulls graphic icons
subliminal dirt
Intricate beauty
covered beneath deception
self preservation
Raising to daylight
exposes vulnerable
state of reflection
(photo credit: http://www.fanpop.com)
Page waits
anticipating touch
caress of pen
Pen arrives
BOLD strokes
forceful, powerful
a demanding petitioner
desiring full attention of page
Entangled disarray
left in aftermath
ScribbleDartsfromtheHeart 