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Ink lies seeping

by

 

Nib slides

Into the rough magnified shag

Of vellum

Parched parchment

A gaping bird’s throat

Dry with need and longing

The long dryness of the desert

Screeching out silence song

Sliding, catching the top wisps

Of the brittle nap

Bleeding into empty spaces

Is it then

The ink lies

As it flows

Flows into the tissue

Tissue of lies

Lies full across the page

Inky words

Bleed into me

Blotting me up

Sapping my blood

Blood to the tip

Siphoned up

A symphony of hot jet pigment

Through the ink

Of your words

Blood red

Lies

In ink

Ink lies

On me

 

◄ Deviation

Up! ►

Comments

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Jeff Dawson

Tue 16th Sep 2008 15:46

Hi Moira, beautiful description here and love the way you've linked, blood, ink, lies and the dry parchment, thought it was going to be another sensual one at the start! thanx Jeff X

<Deleted User> (4281)

Sat 13th Sep 2008 03:03

Dear Moira

Very interesting and imaginary write; I like the poem it is very different from many have been reading lately. It inspires with your flair of the ink...Great write!!

Thank you,
Zuzanna

<Deleted User> (5466)

Fri 12th Sep 2008 13:21

Very powerfully imagined. The play on 'lies' is deeply affecting and conveys so viscerally the unsettling discordancy of language.
So kinaesthetic too. The parchment of the 'gaping bird's throat ' ..physically shattering.Superb!

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