Calligraphy wrote:I am seething,
the roiling bubbles overtaking the pot.
My eyes filled with tears,
My mouth with foul words.
The paper is blank, creamy white, a relief.
Blue lines crisp and clear.
I form the first word then the next.
My letters are neat and controlled.
But, soon my hand quickens.
I am unstoppable, my anger escaping through the ink.
I don't slow until all the thoughts, the feelings,
the secrets I can't say out loud are no longer heavy.
They are still mine, yet the burden is eased.
With a flourish I sign my name.
~So I think this is an O.K. poem, but could use improvement. I have tried, but don't like what I come up with. Please review harshly!~
A.S.
P.S. could you help me with the name?
Nice poem, Call.
