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poem by in Free Verse added

To be a Scribe

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Graceful strikes

Passionate yet light

A touch here a scribble there

On a field of white

Swishing of the tip as if it be a breeze

Liquid and wood embraced

In a tight grip

Scratching of a point

The music of this art

On that white field of wood

Leaves a stream of fluid dreams

That the world can now see

The End
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MOJ You're currently reading the poem To be a Scribe, which was posted on Jun 27, 2011 by MOJ.

This is a collaborative poem.

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