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Prisoner of Poetry

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Ink's Prisoner of Poetry Contest *** March 23, 2025

Metaphors and similes flow freely from my pen when I am scripting and scribing in poetic verse. Across the width of pale parchment pages the nib of my feathered pen continues to traverse. Ink courses fathoms deep within me like life blood, rushing through the eddied channels of my veins. I struggle to ignore the cramping in my fingers. There's no hesitation when writing echoing refrains when I imprison myself in poetry. Each stanza I carefully arrange in proper sequence as if it's a bairn born for the creation of my story. Sometimes my gypsy muse joins me in the dance when I write with abandonment in wild allegory. I never try to rein her in when we're both focused and driven to complete a poem, oblivious of time. With vivid imagination, romantic sonnets are birthed as I sit penning line after line in consummate rhyme, incarcerated at my desk until I've written the last line. My thoughts tumble like flurries of pristine snowflakes. With a single spark of romance my passion ignites as each completed verse falls perfectly into place, it lifts my need to write compositions of love to greater heights. Day and night, I find myself a wanderer, lost in reveries where I journey in a private kingdom of verbose amplitude. Around each curve in the road is a new challenge to be met, and yet, none thwart me when trysting in romantic interlude. Rude would be the one who would disturb me when I'm handcuffed to a work in progress. I try to indite with some semblance, dare I call it skill or talent? By no means am I an accomplished laureate by my admission. As a mere poet, I do not strive to compose a magnum opus, but a meaningful collection of verses as a worthy composition. If by chance, my poetry is interpreted and appreciated by some who view my emotional imagery with soulful eyes of admiration, I will credit my gypsy muse with her conspiratorial whispers and amorous experiences as the impetus for my inspiration. I hold the key to unlock my self-inflicted prison door, and used when at last my pen has been laid to rest.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 3/23/2025 6:30:00 AM
Lin, it's always very special to read poetry about the creative process itself and the magic that occurs when the process gets underway. The imagery you use of being imprisoned and unlocking what is deep inside is very striking indeed. I'm marking this as a favorite as its truly the most humble and positive description of authorship I've seen!! Smiles!!
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Lin Lane
Date: 3/23/2025 6:48:00 AM
Duke, after reading Paul's kind comments and now your gracious remarks on my lines, I am truly humbled to have received praises from two men that I admire as poets and gentlemen. There are times when I should be attending to other things, but when words flow in us, we dare not build a dam. Thank you for honoring my poetry with your time and plaudits. Hugs for you.
Date: 3/23/2025 5:13:00 AM
Spellbinding dear Lin, the Muse certainly got a good grip of your pen in creating this devotional poem...you do the profession proud and have a honored place at the table. Imaginative, packed full of good lines and exhibiting that skill of yours. Bravo from a fellow prisoner...a life sentence is to be celebrated. From No 874632 ( Paul )
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Lin Lane
Date: 3/23/2025 5:31:00 AM
Good day to you, Paul and thank you for your comments... as always, they are appreciated. I kind of got carried away while writing this one, so maybe I had chained myself to my desk, pen in hand. There'll be no pardon for good behavior because I don't always behave, but c'est la vie. Thanks again, my fellow inmate. I'm No. P1O2E3T4.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things