An essay on why I write... (Form: Villanelle) |
| I Write ... My tongue trips while thoughts run free. Pray fingers fly where mouth is dumb. I'll let my pencil speak for me. Played upon paper in harmony, a symphony of whatβs to come. My tongue trips while thoughts run free. Phrases lacking ordered symmetry re-sketched in pastel shades of plum. I'll let my pencil speak for me. Words lie scattered like debris to ready verse in mind succumb. My tongue trips while thoughts run free. For permanence, must patience be No mark unkind in total sum. I'll let my pencil speak for me. Eβre its been in my history, never cake but always crumb. My tongue trips while thoughts run free. I'll let my pencil speak for me. Notes It's my attempt at a Villanelle in (mostly |