This is my first post so I'm going to tease a little via these poems about writing.
BLANK BEAUTY
Beautiful
blank pages
kiss our
imaginations
with
backgrounds
that
demand precision.
Our black
letters cross
on
tightrope lines,
curving
without
wavering
across
deep, invisible currents.
These
beautiful blank pages
are
promises of our
reflections.
Our
gentlest strokes
of
darkness upon light.
Anonymous
-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-
WRITER
A person,
for you, is a book.
Impossible
to categorize,
it veers
from non-sense verse
to the
most tedious of novels
and back
in just a
breath.
And the
book ends, the book ends.
And what
makes the person more real,
then,
than a
book,
is just
that you cannot re-read
one
chapter, one sentence, one word.
You must
re-write him,
her,
and you
cannot.
This
inability is the source
of
everything you have to say.
Joe
Wenderoth
Nice poems. Hope to read more poems from you.
ReplyDelete