With Every Word
The quill quivers
Within a poet’s hand,
A trembling the poet
Has come to understand.
The quill hears the voice of words...
Some serious and some absurd.
With every word a steppingstone
To a completed poem is born.
With every thought the path in words’ journey begins
And with every word written the quill quivers again.
The parchment waits in silent need
For within every word lies a planted seed
That will bloom and flourish...
Within the ink it will be nourished.
And soon the page will fill
With words dripped from a quill
That quivered so its thoughts were known
To become with every word a steppingstone.
© 2019 mdbadgerowWithin a poet’s hand,
A trembling the poet
Has come to understand.
The quill hears the voice of words...
Some serious and some absurd.
With every word a steppingstone
To a completed poem is born.
With every thought the path in words’ journey begins
And with every word written the quill quivers again.
The parchment waits in silent need
For within every word lies a planted seed
That will bloom and flourish...
Within the ink it will be nourished.
And soon the page will fill
With words dripped from a quill
That quivered so its thoughts were known
To become with every word a steppingstone.
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