Accidentally charged yet often reserved
Small shapes on paper make big words.
Silent yet presently seen
Sounds echo, feelings escape on pages for others to read.
Long vowels, yet short sounds
Arranged in rhymes
Together or alone
Collected in the mind.
Creating actions yet not just describing
letters to words may create laughter or crying
Always, first, thought yet often not printed
Kept at bay, fear keeps them from living.
Connected so neatly yet drafted so sloppy
An ending inevitable
This blue ink is not stopping.
Black an White yet hidden in color
Between the lines lay secrets waiting to be discovered.
From mind to paper, quickly penned yet now often paged from keys pressed softly by fingertips.
Paper, napkins, screens, yet mostly from lips
The limitless number of mediums.
Not living yet overflowing life
Cursive thoughts... in ink, on lined paper, spoken, or typed.
Obesely tiny, yet precise when combined.
Written, the fountains flow slowing, an ending in site.
Words can become meaningless even lies, yet those same
words give both meaning and identify to all life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem