When the Ink is Mine
I set my voice upon the page
where ink remembers every age
the paper waited still for me
to shape the words that needed free
No machine will echo mine
nor twist the truth in tangled line
my thoughts are born from breath and bone
and speak in ways that are my own
Each word is weighed with care and cost
a part of me is never lost
I give it slow I give it true
and guard it from the grasp of you
No code can taste the evening rain
or feel the pull of joy and pain
no copy made of glass and light
can see the dark I hold at night
I keep my ground I will not yield
my voice is mine it is my shield
and every line I let be read
is one no stranger’s hand has fed
So when my pages turn to dust
and all the pens are red with rust
the echo left will still be mine
a human mark through all of time
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
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