“More Than Scribbles”
The pen does not speak—
it holds its silence in a chamber,
a reservoir where sentences
float unformed,
dark rivers stalled
before the mouth of paper.
Each droplet is a thought
waiting for gravity’s compunction,
a poem in liquid pause,
its capillary compression
held at the narrow throat of the nib.
The pipeline presses with pressure,
yet nothing escapes—
until the hand inclines,
and gravity leans through the hinge,
drawing futures downward
onto a waiting page.
There, a stained tributary
eddies downstream,
curling into margins,
its current carrying fragments
toward the widening mouth of breath.
A single line spills,
a thought becomes visible,
the poem begins to breathe.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 21st, 2025 05:16
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 43
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange
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Comments4
A fine write A. I seem to find time to write my rubbish poems of KP, etc. Do they take long to write? Nope! Do they require any brain-power? Shouldn't think so! lol.
Some poems do come easier than others! 🙏🏻🕊️
Yes, I find my nonsense poems don't take long, using only my 3 brain cells. lol.
Another marvelous work my friend that flows like water and leaks out of its dam. Loved it so clear in its metaphor that continued to grow with each tributary until it formed a lake of thought. Simply lovely and another fave
And all tributaries spill into the Ocean! 🙏🏻🕊️
That vast Melvillian sea of the mind and soul
Rik, this lands with a calm sort of inevitability… the moment the line breaks open feels like the whole thing exhales. Well done, my friend! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
May you poems continue breathing Rik.
Andy
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