paul
paul
Apr 19, 2011

Stroke Of A Pen

Writing feverishly
As if time is chasing me
Maybe these words
Can be my harmony

They say poetry
Is effective therapy
It’s the only thing
That gets one through

I yearn to read
The ink that drips
When a heart bleeds

In an empty pad
Written confessions
As pride shrivels
Leaving untainted
Honesty

In every stanza
Emotions breathe
Becoming content
With drowning fears

On this page
Tears spill
With no shame
Writing words
Till pain
Is cured

Momentary bliss
Eases beings
Allowing pages
To be altars

Finally I’m not chased
By the creations
Of my fears
Or the floods
That falls from eyes
I am in my sanctuary
Living through
The voice
Muted by
Silence
Translated
By the stroke
Of my pen

About This Poem

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: New York , USA

Favorite Poets: Cavafi

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Comments

Eduardo Cruz

the thought of poetry as a way of a release is true.
But Ithink that this needs something more of you, to make it your own. it's just when I read it I felt I've heard it all before.
That's just my opinion!
this is not my write.

M

How did I miss this one and I must go to porch. It is as if I wrote this too, the candlelite my thoughts and my pen in hand and nothing to disrupt the peace of mind that writing gives to the soul.

Great work and I will be back to read once again friend

Blessings to you and familia

Mona

K

Paul, with a few strokes of pen, if you excise some words, and say what you mean to say, you'll have an outstanding poem.

Less is always more in great poetry. Be the flute, Paul

let me give you an example from W.S.Merwin

The Nomad Flute

You that sang to me once sing to me now
let me hear your long lifted note
survive with me
the star is fading
I can think farther than that but I forget
do you hear me

do you still hear me
does your air
remember you
oh breath of morning
night song morning song
I have with me
all that I do not know
I have lost none of it

but I know better now
than to ask you
where you learned that music
where any of it came from
once there were lions in China

I will listen until the flute stops
and the light is old again

From Shadows of Sirius, to be published by Copper Canyon Press in
Fall 2008.

~A

CCfire

CCfire

13 years 10 months ago

To be brutally honest here I think your final stanza is the poem it's strong with all the images I would need for you to bring this thought to life, I don't think the rest is necessary. I am a huge fan of brevity if it can clearly give me a visual and that final stanza does it for me.

M

This part says it all in a nutshell for me

On this page
Tears spill
With no shame
Writing words
Till pain
Is cured

Love to you and familia
Magics