The Traveling Ink

A steady flow,
Down to the tip.
The tip glides.
It runs the ink throughout the paper...
Sheer brilliance in structure and design.
One drop...
Just one,
Can write a thousand words.
Two can write a thousand more...
When will it cease?
Run out?

Never!
Refill, replenish,
Reimburse it with the brilliance you took away from it
Let it soak it all up,

To every last drops..................

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Kiki_McGee said...
Aug. 12, 2012 at 4:52 pm:

So true! I love how the poem flows like the ink and quill you describe. My only suggestion would be to not repeat "tip" in both the second and third lines. Otherwise, good job!

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PaigeStreet said...
Aug. 9, 2012 at 1:32 pm:

I'm really impressed. The way you treat the simple subject of the power of penstroke by taking it down to the level of the drop- like the blood of a redemptive sacrifice, this has a sanctimonious feel. Very well done. (also- the visual of the drops of ink at the end show a great versatility in artistic vision!)

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LoveAndHateMakeLife said...
Aug. 9, 2012 at 3:06 am:

Ah! I'm in love with it! I have a very serious love for the magical substance that lives in pens... Ink. It tells a story, a short story, (which is the only thing I can find even a bit wrong about this poem) but a story that paints brilliant mental images none the less.