by Eulalia Prynn

Created on: April 02, 2010

A Poem in my Pocket

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The rasp of paper in the palm of my hand

The smell of ink and page pressed to my face

Thrilling tingle in my heart as I write

A blush of pleasure as words fill my sight

Collections of creatures, sensations, places

Musings of old and new inspire as they collide

Shuffle and blur of noise, color, print, texture

The whisper of promise ever softer, softer

I wait for it to rise up, for pen to ravage page as if possessed

It flows naturally, comes as the water falls from cliff ledge

Flowing river of insights, anecdotes, truths to be told

The soothing of an inflamed and wandering soul

Restless shifting through my mind, a ceaseless task

Searching, seeking out release and respite

Quenched only by pen and ink

The clatter and clack of stricken keys

Forming here a look to the depths of me.

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