Silence telegraphs with empty leaves-
lines that flowed in likeness, ink and clue
what once was filled with calligraphic ease
and endeavored to connect, just as you drew.
Of arcs entwined and crossing interplait
a scratch adorned the page as I cannot.
Written from this shine and crimson faith,
this rose in thorns will finish my last thought.
Urged to move in pacing and in slant,
on fertile ground sent forth from secret souls
in purposed guise impressing and entranced-
and held in hands imploring rhythmic tolls.
Your cursive memory lingers and demands
confession, written -scored- in my own hand.
*************************
Thinking a bit about writing -actually physical writing- this morning. The art of penmanship is fading. I never excelled at it, mind you, but I appreciate the beauty and craft of well-done handwriting. And the personality of handwriting…it is so intimate.
Anyway, this poem started as a few random couplets, and then blossomed into a sonnet. Let me know what you think.
Taps and Ratamacues 
A sonnet for a sonnet: http://melindakucsera.com/2015/09/10/divination-a-sonnet-for-your-thoughts/ 🙂
I really like your sonnet by the way. Very evocative. I got that it was about penmanship, an I lost long ago. Thank you for posting it!
Argh excuse the interruption. My comment above should read: “an art I lost long ago.” No thanks to my fat fingers or my android. Sigh. No respect.
Thanks for visiting and commenting on my poems, Melinda. I appreciate the opinions and am glad you dropped by.
You’re welcome!
I felt the longing in your sonnet. Very nicely done.
Thanks Mary. I’m glad the emotion of the poem resonated.
Long ago and far away, I had beautiful handwriting; now it’s chicken scratches. One other thing that because of computers, is fast disappearing. Yet I’m hooked to the virtual world, and see no turning back.
Your words stated this eloquently.
Thank you Kathy. My penmanship was never good, but I appreciate beautiful script when I see it. Thanks for stopping by.
Always a pleasure… 🙂
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