Threaded By Twilight

weavingYou weave your stories like the night,
stringing the moon with the stars;
the finest of pristine pearls,
threaded by twilight.

Weaving the finest Varanasi silk
with life as your celestial loom;
laying down gold- and silver-threaded brocade,
dormant gardens burst in bloom.

Your pen is the philosopher’s stone
turning lead hearts into gold;
manipulating structure in stunning stanzas,
inscribing on hearts in italics and bold.

Nodding in acquiescence
the sages of the ages,
will then add your magnum opus
to their papyraceous pages.

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A writer writes..

Sky Blue and Black

unnamed

a writer writes,
to ameliorate the pain
be it holy or profane
be it balanced or insane
with affection or disdain

Every word written wipes away a tear
every line, refuge from fear

a sort of self medication
a self reparation
a hopeful initiation
from a hopeless situation

every couplet,
a bleeding wound healed
every stanza,
a memory sealed

a writer writes,
to begin again
to leave behind the pain
a release from a binding chain
and that familiar refrain

in vain..

and so the writer writes..
Again..
    and Again..

 

 

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A writer writes..

unnamed

a writer writes,
to ameliorate the pain
be it holy or profane
be it balanced or insane
with affection or disdain

Every word written wipes away a tear
every line, refuge from fear

a sort of self medication
a self reparation
a hopeful initiation
from a hopeless situation

every couplet,
a bleeding wound healed
every stanza,
a memory sealed

a writer writes,
to begin again
to leave behind the pain
a release from a binding chain
and that familiar refrain

in vain..

and so the writer writes..
Again..
    and Again..