Poem Of A Poem Poem by Justin Chan

The blank page beckons,
Begs,
For an idea, a phrase,
Expanded,
The form art.

The hand hovers,
Hesitantly, pencil held tight,
Above the paper,
Deciding, selecting,
A multitude of topics,
A treasure trove of vocabulary.

Slowly, uncertainly,
A thought forms.

The thought, the idea,
Of no topic but one,
One of writing, a crafting of words.

The thought expands,
Progressive, collective,
A gathering, a compilation,
Forming words, joining phrases,
A harmony of aspects,
A chord, a picture.

From a blank, empty landscape,
A world is created.
A scene, an image,
A picture.

Thus, the fun of writing,
Where worlds are formed,
From emptiness,
From a formless void,
To a brand new world.

Finished,
The hand stops,
And the person sees.
Proud of his creation,
A poem,
Of writing a poem.