sometimes a piece of work
drips off the ends of my
fingers slides across my
keyboard & writes itself
at others words wedged in
creases of my right brain
await excavation
conveyance to the page
words my dearest lovers
my most cruel enemies
serve me at their pleasure
& make of me their slave
© 2011 cj Schlottman
6 comments:
"drips off the end of fingers" ahh, love this line... the whole poem is absolutely divine. The poem writes itself - - takes on its own entity.
what a fun drama you have going with words. it's not so easy to 'show' while writing a word piece, but your opening is all image, and the rest follows like a beautiful tail.
A play on words i'd say. A struggle of sorts.
Great write
Blessings
Beautiful, words can elude and then creep out when least expected....
Beautiful...
Love this CJ. It speaks to me and about me. laurie @ Battling My Inner Critic
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