The raven and the writing desk

A million feathers drifting seamlessly,
to pluck one out of thin air and write a poem,
is all the heart desires;

Blood seeping endlessly into an ink bottle,
to dip a quill and write a poem,
is all the heart desires;

Rolls of parchment growing limitlessly,
to pick one from the ground and write a poem,
is all the heart desires;

My demented incessant rants flowing senselessly,
to stifle a scream and write a poem,
is all the heart desires;

But, alas,
I’m the raven and I am the writing desk,
and we don’t have hands.

By: Viraj Belgaonkar

Pen it... or aaa type it. u know what i mean.

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

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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