I squeeze the rock and dip my pen.

January 25, 2011

my poetry rises
to the surface

In this inky darkness
I fill my pen
and start to paint words
on a blank canvas
in my mind.

I paint and glaze
lumps of clay
gouged from life
fired in my mind
a kiln.

Little hammer in my head
cobbling together words
letting my mind walk
along roads
not before taken.

I string my bow
and dash into the forest
of words
to catch
a poem.

Writer’s block:
blank page
white glare.

I bare my heart and soul
words wet
with blood and spit.

My pen a needle
I weave words
to keep you warm
on winter

Being human
and writing words
are my new life’s work.

Molten words
spill from thought
forged as poems
left to cool
in pixels.

Molten metal words
flow in my consciousness, to
take shape in my poems.

Riding the waves
of writing
on my keyboard.

I squeeze the rock
and dip
my pen.

Walking words
trailing sentences
in my wake.

…I bend time with my words.

5 Responses to “I squeeze the rock and dip my pen.”

  1. Peter, you’ve captured beautifully what we all experience day-to-day…thank you for making me feel less alone in this way

  2. dani said

    Beautiful descriptions of writing poetry.

  3. […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Peter , Peter . Peter said: Blog updated with… *I squeeze the rock and dip my pen* …http://bit.ly/ffWqwP […]

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