The Ink Is Calling Poem by Kurt Philip Behm

The Ink Is Calling



Suspended moments between the lines,
my mind now lost in space

Sublimated syntax buried deep,
my spirit free to race

A light unfiltered, the sound of horns,
my body starts to rise

The ink is calling, my pen in hand,
new words at last—arrive

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March,2017)

Wednesday, March 29, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: words
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