painful tide of frustration
flow towards the shores of his mind
scrunched pieces of imagination
lay shredded before his feet

the peak of his pen is stiff
subdued in a pathetic State of drought
gnashing against his piece of paper
like tree bark run through the ground

the salt on this sore
is his memories of the yesteryears
when in the symphony
and Harmony of his pen and paper
the flow of time quietly liquidified
quickly bound in his strands of word

his words were a thief of time
drowning the rumbling of voices
in his quiet whisper of poetic words
calming the clash of minds
in the rythm of the soul of his ink
taming the rage of his own soul
claiming the hold of wind
gagging the roaring of waves
in the cage of its own reef...

but here he kneels
groveling on rocky grounds
holding his pen out for a dip
in the fountaINK of the deep

his prayers lie way below his stuttering lips
'let me once more feel the breeze
that blew on the shores of this mind
let me once again name the stars
subdue and put them behind bars let me with my reins of words
harness brewing tornadoes
sharpen the gold peak of my pen
rusted in this dew of dryness
let me once more watch the storms
go mouths agape
at the pull at the string of my poems guitar
let me feel the flame
long reduced to a spark
let me... let...
my imagination grow wild once again'
NB: fountaINK is my fusion of the words fountain of ink.
#fountaINK PENultimate


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