Saturday, November 14, 2009

The chaos of the blank white
Forms an abyss
With an unquenchable thirst
For what is mine.

Pen poised, I resolve to relinquish
My right to the access of the mine.
My catharsis forms;
If only for me to burn it later.

My fingertips sing to the rhythm of my heart.
Words surge through, blue.
My feelings stain the ink.
An imperfect amalgamation.

The rhymes don't come!
Oh, never mind that catacomb of the almost-lyrical!
It doesn't matter.
I write for me. Alone.

The words come faster;
Pen ablur, calligraphy forgotten.
A whirlwind of my own creation.
Well, I don't mind the trap.

The kitsune of thoughts prances.
The crescendo magnifies it's flame.
The elusive will-o-wisp- I hold it now.
I made it so. In ink, with ink.

Period. Sweat. Gasp.
An ink-stained nose. Foggy eyes.
It's late. My personal "25 'o' clock".
And yet...

One empty line. Right at the end.
It leers to me, "Is that all?"
No, I won't take to taunt now.
I mar the last whisper of blank
With a "..." .


  1. A Japanese mythical fox. Think pokemon- the one with multiple tails.

  2. This is actually nice. I actually feel this fits the topic better than the ones which she chose...

  3. Guha?!? Revenge shall be ours! X is always right.

  4. Yay! Yay! But not her. A lecturer in some college. Kaleidoscope judge. She expounded us about the four forms of creative writing-
    Inverted pyramid
    Just one question- when one writes creatively, does s/he care?!


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