athlone

I sit at my desk, pen in hand,
and let my thoughts freely expand
to fill the universe of joy and pain,
to feel, to taste, and yes, to tame
emotions borne of trial and age
upon a never ending page.

Its pristine unfathomable white
can serve as backdrop for the night
of nefarious deeds or betrayed love,
as well as day of chansoned cheer
that chases away that night-filled tear.

It lays upon my desk
pregnant with desire,
awaiting in scant anticipation my pen’s caress,
for to secret thoughts lustily undress.
To satisfy the reason for its birth,
for its creation on an earth
where wondrous intricate tales unfold,
each jostling expression to be told,
and once its ardor has been spent,
to return again from whence was sent.

But will this wanton siren sheet,
whose fallow lines horizons meet,
be satisfied or disappointed shrink
from the dark-stained thoughts
of lascivious ink?
Will its textured face smile
on a lover’s hasty touch
that gives so few and promised so much?

Would it rather remain pristine,
a virgin page, innate beauty unseen,
until by virtue of words more skilled
its dire desire be at last fulfilled?

erikestabrook

this is grand athlone,

PaintedDiary

Dear athlone,

Beautifully executed and professionally written. The last two stanzas are particularly powerful. Who would have thought of the "blank page" to write about. I have thought about it, and to see just beauty as a pre-requisite to the splendor that will succumb to the blank page was beautiful in itself. Thank you for sharing yet another lovely piece of work with us.

~*Painted*~

Benny

Perfect and powerfully penned, Muse. I was swept away in the river of this ink. Great visuals and delivery...great work.

twinklewriter

Zvi...wow...outstanding, loved the flow of words and what
thoughts you had of a blank page...