She spoke in rhythms and beats.
Edit and revise before she speaks.
Biting her tongue- a skilled technique.
Bold words gathered in her cheeks.
Strips and pieces of unsaid words.
Sharp and jagged edges of the unheard.
Spinning around her point steadily.
Casually clarifying its complexity.
And when that point meets her blank sheet
With rhythms sharper than what she can speak
She is grateful for all that she didn’t say.
For the ragged chips of unspoken decay
Create points that slide through locks and even cut through rock.
Her dearest remedy for writers block.
So Hushhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhould you try to Listen to her….
You might hear her pencil sharpener.
Very clever use of words here.
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This is an awesome write, I really like it!
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Slay all day . This poem is gorgeous.
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I totally feel that way about writing. Words that lose their magic when spoken. Well said.
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The spiral of words is really beautiful.
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It seems so easy. But I read it multiple times. Could not really get around it. Its not one thought it seems. But some string of voices parallely trying to convey.
Really beautiful.
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Love it mal
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Lovely ❤️
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Reblogged this on The road to Elle and commented:
This poem is so clever, and speaks both to the writer in me and of the writers I know. Be sure to check out more of the work on that blog too, there’s some other gems in there for sure.
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Totally loved this!!
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This is excellent, Friend. Nicely done.
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Great, I was on the tip of my seat all the way through. Welcome to my blog.
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