Science is for those who learn; poetry, for those who know. — Joseph Roux, Meditations of a Parish Priest
To be a poet is a condition, not a profession. — Robert Frost
Everything one invents is true, you may be perfectly sure of that. Poetry is as precise as geometry. — Gustave Flaubert

Sunday, July 19, 2009

~ Ink to Paper ~

Ink to paper, flowing swift
Words come into view
Delicate, or scribbling
Old words are made anew

Put in patterns, some unique
Flows out a masterpiece
Of lost and found, joy or pain
Expressing bits of me

Everyone should grab a pen
The stress this so relieves
Express the pain and happiness
And thoughts alive and free

It doesn't matter, messy or neat
Paper crisp, or crinkled and ripped
Let out this voice within our minds
Ever flowing, the thoughts, heaven sent

One lonely phrase can so inspire
A story or prose of great worth
May only be yours and never published
These works, your thumbprint on earth

Future family may gaze upon
Their hands will touch the page
And with a smile, will wipe back tears
They’ll imagine you during your day

These bits of you, reflects in them
Recorded is your very nature
Lost forever, they’d never had known
If you hadn’t put ink to paper

~© Bobbie Sandlin~


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