18 April 2011

Death By Ink

ink once flowed
from fingers
to pen
to paper
a slow and steady
IV drip
black life's blood
slaking the thirst
of newborn pages
innocent recipients 
drinking in passion,
growing strong 
on a scribe's stygian milk

came the day
the well, depleted,
reversed flow
from paper
to pen
to fingers
sucking written proofs 
and truths from now
mummified retainers
as the scribe, bloated
and intumescent, wrote his last.
Death by ink.


  1. Wow. Sounds stark at first but ends on a fun (and funny) note! Well written!

  2. More accurately, a great visual at the first, stark in the middle to end, then a great twist at the end!

  3. Dig it! Now I wonder if construction workers fear death by concrete, etc...


  4. Great poem! Wonderful tone at the end. And I like that you put pictures with your work. Good stuff. =)

  5. Great! Makes me think of the oft referred to curse of the writer: living only inside our minds and on the page, rather than in the real world. Very much enjoyed the alliteration as well.

  6. I love this. And I have felt it. x