QUILL OF THE MUSE -
What worlds this spine must hold, secrets shining.
Waiting time uncounted for hand and eye
To set to paper some half-formed inkling,
Fully versed before you need start to try.
Lifetimes past it was hidden in a fan,
Woven there by a hunting lady's hand.
She hoped to catch the eye of one high man;
A hint of promise, together they stand.
Now it is used as a pen yet again
And the black flowing ink is fierce in joy.
This quill of shining secrets, ragged pain,
The hand that holds it becomes a mere toy.
My only hope, the one thing left to pray,
Is release once my work is done today.
i wish that i had more experience with poetry so i could give this proper treatment. the rhythm is crap but i don't have the time to get the tumpty-tumpty-tumpty right. not gonna let that stop me from submitting it tho =P