Monday, October 02, 2006

Night Owl (press)

Here I sit…
Pen ready…
Waiting for the words
To come soaring out of night
On silence-tipped wings;
Eyes glistening with the expectation of wet ink,
Stories clamped firmly in eloquent beaks.
I can hear them knocking
On the window of inspiration,
Cooing to each other
In a half-understood language
Hinting of adventure.

I flick open the latch and they swarm in…

3 comments:

La Maestra said...

I love this.

My favorite lines:

Waiting for the words
To come soaring out of night
On silence-tipped wings;

and

Stories clamped firmly in eloquent beaks.

Lovely images, lovely metaphor.

Welcome to the blog!

pinkroses said...

I definitely agree with La Maestra. I think the images in this poem are incredible and I love them! Great writing :D Keep it up!
~Christine~

Anonymous said...

I love "on silence-tipped wings." Your word choice is amazing as well, it paints a clear picture.