Letters of her own

May 21, 2012 § Leave a comment

A writer; writer she is

although she is more than this

aim to not only unfold

her eyes might see

thrust and so behold

she is the infinity of words.


Balances and unbalances

throughout no fault of ‘er own

describes the matters

as leaves falls and time falls along.


Teemed in marks

those words will blame the souls

words with voice

the mute voices of  ‘er own.


“All the people

living in her head”

it searches above and below

never really knowing, (but)

pacing, still gashed, in her road.


Again she writes,

and her eyes perceives

ought to keep pacing

letters low; (and)

ol’ numb beneath’s fading.


try the foul

her lids shapen

imagination flow,

ignites rebounds

in the creation shores –

through her fingers grow

into the plain paper

or any clean white one.


a dip of tint

and a trusting said

coming from a thunderstorm

or maybe a breeze in lawn

but it all lives along

along, inside of  ‘er own.


write to live

or live to write?

clinching words

may choosing none

the clear in mind.


Through her words

hence we won’t know

ought to find meanings

she is a writer, a writer

inside of ‘er own.




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