It begins as a tinkling,
glowing feeling.
Swelling within you;
growing inside
and gathering to its own
life and body
Changing shape.
From feelings to ideas
and building its limbs
from words.
Finally it bursts forth.
Taking a life of its own
on the blank pages
before you.
date unknown
Fine thoughts and very good composition of poems. I read all your poems with great interest. with best regards, sathya narayana
This is the opposite to writer's block? I like your poetry, not being a great lover of rhyme.... your words flow well. Yuri
First i read your (BIO) then your first poem. Believe me you don't need help in writing. You have a natural and unique imagination. Really like your poem! going back to read more
A Muse whispers and the soul's pricked-up, hand cupped ear strains hard to catch each syllable wafting over memory's embers scourging them to white heat. The dull words in the crucible melt, coalesce and run in a stream of quicksilver moonlight And Cat's eyes open wide on reflections Of what amusemeant?
I really enjoyed this poem Stephanie. Very much describes how I feel as a new poem is 'born'. Nice job. Sincerely, Mary
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I liked that one.....