Pages

Wednesday, 23 October 2013

Seeping To A Stop, At My Fingertips...



There is a creek in my blood stream,

Where the ink flows and my words float.

They rush through my body, melded with the blood

Drop by drop, intoxicating my being.

As my body hums, as it goes numb.

With blood it gushes through the empty vessels,

Containing them, fulfilling.

It turns back from the edge of my lips,

Seeping to a stop, at my fingertips.

From there it flows out, pouring on the paper

Draining from my body, the infinite supply.

The ink blemishes, never running out

Spilling onto the white,

Marring the pure blankness.

-Momina.

8 comments:

  1. That's pretty remarkable of you.

    ReplyDelete
  2. "With blood it gushes through the empty vessels,
    Containing them, fulfilling.
    It turns back from the edge of my lips,
    Seeping to a stop, at my fingertips." - This is what defines class .... awesome poetry !!!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Purely sensational! simply awesome
    i admire ur style

    ReplyDelete
  4. Marring the pure blankness. Sigh.

    ReplyDelete
  5. The beauty and power of creation. Loved this!

    ReplyDelete