Candid words begin the work:
a lifted glass, colours shifting,
a small sound caught by careful ears.
Warmth stirs beneath the skin,
like a kettle warming on a low burner.
A slow rise from hidden channels,
like a quiet tide lifting a tide‑pool.
A thaw loosening the brow,
like a frozen pane cracking as breath slips out.
Ripples gather their own force,
like a child’s splash turning sudden whirl.
A brief fluency pushing forward
before sinking again.
Hands idle at the edge of thought.
Unwritten lines drift downward,
like ink drops spreading on a still pond.
Fine grains collecting
like soft snowfall settling on a calm lake.
Then—
a single drop jumps.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 4th, 2026 05:20
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments2
Cryptic this is a beautiful write that to me signifies the emergence of a creative thought condensing on the edge of the mind and running down the rim of the brain's glass forming a drop that splashes onto the page as words forming a poem. A fave my friend
That summative punch line was not what I was expecting .. I knew all along it would be good, or something special .. but it proved to be even better than that ..
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