Ode to Writing

14

I bring to the table
That which arrests the sun
I am a writer, to raise a finger
To my weary mortal lips

What I speak has been spoken before
What I say, will never
Be said again – I am
The vowel attempting

To pronounce, metaphors unknown
On the table’s wilderness
The writer pretends
Enough failed ascension

For a lifetime to know
My pen has tipped over the page
Spilt the ink in a trickle
Of heart to the goose quill

That which once said:
Can never be quite said again
Representing a moment
Unique in the history of art

I bring to the table
That which the light can attest
I am a writer, to raise an eyebrow
To the stars sunk in the air
That hang low across the sea.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Writing-49291934

One thought on “Ode to Writing

  1. Beautiful, and so true! I’m sure all of us writers can relate to the feeling of creating something perfectly unique to share with the world. 🙂

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