Her nails soft and chewed
graphite nestled deeply and
ink blotched on fingertips
calloused and cut in the battle
of delivering words to paper.
scar dark and shining deeply where
pressed into slender fingers
and holding, as if a cup, a pen.
and the pen, knowledge,
and the knowledge, beauty,
and the beauty, pain.
the power of mankind woven snugly
and sharp lines of words chiseled
into open palms, concentrated in fingers,
and plied and formed by pencil,
scratching deeply their marks on
eggshell paper, crisp and sharp,
in a poets weathered hands
marked by invisible glory
dwelling in tired fingerprints
I've read all the poems you have posted and find this one with the freshest language and of course love the theme. Very nice work, Lesley. Raynette
What a refreshing change of theme... love this poem a lot... Alison
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fantastic, again! Amazing imagery. Seriously, keep on going, you have a lot to offer!