Skip to content


July 24, 2011

I am meager and my stories are prayers

offered on pixelated pages

bound in digital cages

each letter is channeled from a place I cannot see,

but like the sea,

I can feel it from the shore.


Inspiration is vanity –

potters mold the clay with held hands

and I let an entity unseen and subtle

scribble words across the keyboard;

I have nothing to do with this.


My music rides the mind,

or is it the other or the other way around?

All the same, I am somewhere else.


At last, I wake up,

read what my hands have written –


And I can feel the sea.


From → Poetry

Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: