I can hear them pounding the streets
with their heavy footfalls echoing
against the walls of my crowded mind.
The letters come marching arm in arm
conjuring ideas from words like magic
out they come from their hiding places
drowning me in their raucous din.
I could hear their voices rising
clamoring to be heard, wanting my attention
begging for me to write them down on paper.
My hands are shaking in anticipation
wondering how the march of words will appear
once I start to bleed my pen
staining blank pages that await
the kiss of the nib on their virgin skin.
-The Elusive Scribe 010814-