Poetry (Page 2)

Image Credit: "Little girl and open book" from Kevin Carden

I relish the feeling of crisp new pages,
the scent of ink in the air.

Some, may speak of enchanted places.
A handsome prince, a maiden fair.

[continue]. . .

An open book, with pages extended upward, lies on a light-colored wooden desk. Sparkles, light, and smoke appear to be coming from within it.

Enjoying the beauty of meter and rhyme,
a poem revealed inscribing each line.
One day I’ll be lost to the passage of time,
but dreams will live on in this poem of mine.

[continue]. . .

A quill pen and an ink well rest on an old, open book in a library.

Let us begin to write with colour.
Measuring beats with the stroke of a pen.
Not all are meant to share with another,
but help us recall lost moments again.

[continue]. . .