Poetry In Motion

She sat

pen in hand

suspended in mid-air

over the pristine white paper.

She waited....

Waited for the thoughts to come.

Thoughts that would put motion

to her hand

causing the ink to flow fluidly

on the paper.

But nothing came.

Just blankness.

Thoughts teetering on the edge

of becoming ideas.

Ideas which would form

into written words.

Written words

which when combined

would create poetry.

Poetry which she hoped

would then again inspire thought

by those who read it.


nothing came.

She knew better

than to fight the block.

It had to ripple smoothly

from her mind

or it was meaningless

and shallow.

So she stopped waiting

set down the pen

put aside her notebook

cleared her mind

and rose from her seated position

stretched lazily

turned and left the room.


on the table

underneath the lamplight

where the pen lay

resting atop the crisp pages

of the notebook,

were the preceeding written words

taken from a thought

turned idea

that when combined


poetry in motion.

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