Poison Pen – Poem…


The kettle’s boiling, coffee grounds stirring,

my senses are awakening, my pen readying the ink,

my imagination is coiling, readying to strike,

like a snake in a desert, biting the paper with its venom,

the venom is my ink, and before I can even blink,

the paper is full of poison, that bleeds from my brain,

the story comes alive, and doesn’t leave me alone,

until it is fully finished, and written on the wall,

the characters they talk to me, like I am a dear old friend,

but in reality I feel inside, my brain is on the bend,

writing is a strange illness, it strikes you out of nowhere,

makes you feel you have to write, or your mind will explode,

the pressure that amounts behind you, when pen has not hit the paper,

eventually leaks out into a deadly, reading writing vapour,

so write and read, and read and write,

until your brain see’s no more…

Then tomorrow it will awaken and the poison pen becomes once more.

By Mercedes Prunty… Published on 26th June 2017.


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