I rise form lengthened moments’ bindings
where duty’s penance scolds me.
I rise to grapple pleasure’s windings
and pay with peace of mind for thee…
for thee, my pen, who counts as friend
my blotter’s adept taming,
who from your harshest scrawling rends
the truth without a shaming
pool of India’s shade.
Our subtle struggle finds it mark
between the rush of blood and haste,
that bends the quill to matters dark
imbibing in the frozen taste
that surety tinged with pallor,
that turned the wine from blood,
that wrote to claim heroic valor
of the throngs of dead left in the flood,
and there we acquiesce in trade.
O! Angels come to save this heart!
O! Come to turn this page!
Kindly cast a blessing’s start
that steals the sweetness from the rage
that slaves between the pen and pulp
suspended twixt my mind and hand!
O! Push the pride of pen to gulp
the essence of this dream so grand!
Please guide the wounded hidden proof!
At last the peace resounds in song.
At last the echo finds its mates.
Cut across the injured page
in long and sweetest strokes it states,
“Herein my soul in truth belongs
to what a moment’s freedom gains,
that passion for the perfect song
is sealed in treaty’s loving stains
and partnership of truth,
that from the wetted pen stems youth
and from the blotter age!”
17 responses to “A Page of Proof”
beauty expressed within strong emotions…
words that are felt as well as read
Take Care…You Matter..
loving your “self-portrait” way cool how you capture the emotions and channel them into a song…i can hear….
Thanks Claudia – it’s sometimes a stormy space between my mind and the page.
WHat a classic feeling in this poetry — so many lines I love here.. one of the best poems I have read tonight…
Wow! Thanks Bjorn! I really appreciate such a kind comment. Thanks!
Powerful and Lovely Jay, classically penned(typed) 🙂 Great Verse Friend!
Thanks Morgan – I actually conceive these by hand with a black super-fine-tip ball point and a Moleskin notebook. You should see the mess! 🙂 blotches and stabs! And all the while with a smoldering cigar hanging from my mouth… ashes everywhere! The very look of it makes me want to seek psychiatric help, 😀 Thanks!
LOL sounds like quite a picture!
I’m amazed at the beauty here..it’s my first time visiting your site I think and I can see you writing in the moleskin notebook with the cigar and whatever it is inside you that reaches the page, it reveals fine character and a romantic heart.
Thank you! Very kind of you to see the whole thing. 🙂 I do appreciate you reading and your comments. Thanks!
Sincerely the last two stanzas seal everything excellently with the old, the new, the past, the present~ Iambic is marvelous ! Faithfully Debbie
Thank you Debbie – so appreciate your visiting.
very nice…very classical poetry feel but also very lyrical…i can feel the rhythm of your words and see the ink as it pours forth….smiles…
Thank you Brian!
Self-portrait of a poet; I scribble in pencil on any paper that comes to hand; no cigars for me though … smiles. There’s a really strong rhythm in this poem that propels the reader along from line to line, stanza to stanza. As others have said, there’s a classical feel to this too.
Thank you Tony – I can only imagine how interesting the book would be that details the images of all poets while they write… I always think of someone like Shakespeare with ink blotches all over his fingers… thanks for reading and commenting!