The Word Thief
Vocal has a sly nasty group of poetry thieves
The Word Thief
He waits where quiet settles in
Then slips beneatha writers skin
He lifts a line, a twist, a sound
And walks away, no dirt, no ground
He takes the rhyme, the sudden turn
The bit we bled, the hours we burn
He acts like no one sees him there,
we’ve seen the idiot
with lots more men out there
No ink on him, no scraps, no scars
Just echoes stolen from the stars
He never broke a line in two
He never saw a draft fall through
We write with blisters on the tongue
He writes with hands that don’t belong
And every word he pulls and bends
Will cut him deeper in the end
Let him build his crooked stack
Each stolen rhyme, a breaking back
One day it snaps, and when it does
He’ll wish he’d written like the rest of us.
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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More stories from Marie381Uk and writers in Poets and other communities.
Thoughts on Vocal and the way the world is
"Death cannot stop true love, only delay it." – Wesley in The Princess Bride. I decided to come back to Vocal on a very cold and dark night at the end of December. I had been, and still am, convalescing from a horrible staph infection that had gone misdiagnosed for months. This, paired with the increasing challenges of being healthy, making the best choices for my co-parented child, being a wife, and being a director at a new job, was a lot to manage.
By Jazzy 4 days ago in Confessions
Comments (3)
How true, how true you write. The Word Thief better look out.
Be careful, your previous article was stolen!!!. It could be possible this... Good writing.
Lets see you try and steal that one, Word Thief!