I like Wednesdays
It might just be me but I do. Rhetoric class and (sometimes) Bible studies, besides a feeling of "Oh good, I'm halfway through the week" all combine. I felt like sharing a poem. Endure as best you can.
Ink Smears
The ink smears,
Nearly causing tears,
The ink climbs,
Like black vines.
Splotches spread
Like the chicken pox
That mothers’ dread.
I wrestle the ink to the ground and beat it.
I rub the dust from my hands.
“That will teach it."
So I send it smoothly
In straight lines
Like an arrow.
I glance away for a moment only,
It is far off the path,
Galloping along at a high rate of speed,
Is the ink which I increasingly need.
I feel guilty,
Like I have broken something,
As I stare at my straggly lines.
Was my poor attempt worthy?
Or did my lines involuntarily defile
The pure loveliness of the paper?
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