Scales, like those of a komodo dragon,
resting on paper, burning holes
through the thin whiteness,
constricting syllables out of blackness
and the emptiness left behind.
'Not now! ' - screams the voice dictating my poetry -
'not ever...' - sadly
Sometimes it falls like dandruff
on my shoulders,
and its presence makes me uncomfortable.
I try to pat it away, but it remains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poetic imagination, Lenny. You may like to read my ars poetica named as (Poetic Sense-1) Thanks