An original poem I wrote a while ago. I really like this one.



Hands poised delicately

brushing the keys,

gripping the pen.

Focus wavers and

the blank walls surrounding

tug at your interest

While pondering thoughts

flicker in and out of reach


A fleeting murmur,

not yet an idea

it holds beauty, power

but there are no words

to describe it


It’s a feeling, an emotion

One you long for

but cannot seem to find


It is internalized,


like a maze made

simply to become lost in


And so


The page stays blank

the cursor blinks

expectantly from the screen

As it taunts the swirling threads

Of possibility.


Your hands

slip from the keyboard

drop the pen

tensed in frustration


And suddenly


An idea takes hold-

burning so brightly

It casts shadows across the farthest corners of the mind

It focuses everything

Into pure, intense thought


Those hands

Become just an instrument

Playing out the symphony of the mind

As the words flow across the page


Colors intensify

clarity takes over

and for a moment

you can



And just as quickly

the moment passes

leaving you with the beginnings

of something great


A few printed lines

A blot of smudged ink

But it means something,

It’s more than what it is-


Born of the thing we call




One thought on “Inspiration

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