Categories
#poetry

blank page

white screen,
blinking cursor.

white dotted line,
hovering pen.

one letter after the other,
one syllable follows another,
rhyming isn’t my rhythm
I tend to clap on the off-beat
I prefer the feat of clever rhyming,
clapping in-between the beat.

it’s unexpected,
tripping up the stairs,
like tripping over your own words,
but you reorganize your sentences,
you put your pen to paper,
your fingers to the keyboard,
you pick yourself back up again

one letter after the other.

M.B.B.
11/15/19

By Meghan B.

Hello! Thanks for checking out my blog! Despite being 29, I haven't lost my sense of child-like wonder for the world around me. I've been making up stories my whole life: My imaginative play with toys as a child has grown up with me, maturing into my imaginative wordplay with fantasy and sci-fi prose as well as free-verse poetry. I thrive on creating something with my hands and with my mind, using either my pen or my keyboard. When I'm not reading, writing, or knitting (or realistically, working), I'm watching Netflix, gaming, or hanging out with the people I love most: my friends, my family, or my boyfriend.

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