When Magic Flows

Posted on September 30, 2019 by

Written for:  Sunday Whirl, Wordle #423

Words:  mass, keys, shot, rail, stamp, level, grunt, wail, phobia, flash, stroke, wind

Decisive stroke of the keys,
and she’s off like a shot
plotting her new novel,
Concerning Phobias. Some
-thing had her wound up,
and no, her cup holds nothing
but tea. She’s off booze.

Her writing had been on
the rails–no jazz, no flash.
Her wail had sailed. A mass
of crinkled papers–starts
and stops piled in her waste-
basket. Now she stamps her
feet, no grunt to confront.
She has hit a new level;
she soars.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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6 Responses to When Magic Flows

  1. oldegg says:
    September 30, 2019 at 2:49 am

    Lucky her; for me first enthusiasm fades into doubt until readers really are impressed by ones words.

    Like

  2. jaerose37 says:
    September 30, 2019 at 10:52 am

    I love the energy and passion for writing that comes from this poem

    Like

  3. The Real Cie says:
    September 30, 2019 at 5:58 pm

    Nice use of the prompt. If a poem were written about the way I write, it would go a little bit something like this:
    She powered ahead
    Though she ought to be dead
    Good sense be damned
    If on stage, she’d be a ham

    Like

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