The Poem That Walked Away
I wrote a line
and it trembled softly,
then lifted from the page
like a bird escaping its cage.
It twisted through the air,
folding letters into shadows,
and I chased it
through corridors of my own mind.
Even the ink bent,
pressing its weight
against the floorboards,
folding rhythm into my chest.
The stanza hummed softly,
its cadence pressing secrets,
and I understood
words could breathe independently.
I caught it once,
and it hissed,
folding history
into a shape I could not hold.
When I tried to rewrite,
the poem vanished,
leaving only echoes
that pressed against my thoughts.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Wild Card Weekend Recap: What Happens Now?
I think I figured out why I love Wild Card Weekend so much. It's because it's the first playoff anything of the calendar year. The NFL season starts in the fall, and once upon a time, the champion was crowned either on or slightly before New Year's. The evolution of the NFL schedule has resulted in the playoffs starting just into the New Year, and currently, the final week of the season falls on the first weekend of the New Year, with Wild Card Weekend coming a week after that. So yes, chronologically, the NFL's Wild Card Weekend serves as the first playoff anything of the calendar year.
By Clyde E. Dawkins7 days ago in Unbalanced
Comments (3)
You have written a poem here that I believe that all we writers have felt and lived through.
I can feel you chasing your words- nice job, my friend.
Magnificent work Marie!!