The Doodle

Sometimes I'll scrawl out a poem or so and then completly forget about it. Then some months later I'll dig through a stack of paper and be all like. 'Hey! what's this and where did it come from?'

THE DOODLE

I am the product of an idle romance between pencil and paper,

conceived in a dusty room as a dry voice expounded on tangents and graphs

graphite kisses were stolen over daily rote

as the hands of the clock paused on the wall

I hang here on this rumpled plane,

caught between long blue lines like a bar of music,

on the margins, separated from the tangled dance of the numbers

seeking only a solution, the reason for their being.

But their epic transition from one state into another is forgotten, as am I.

But the only with no other purpose than to be,

created mindlessly, and hanging in a single moment in time,

records of a world long abandoned by its creator.

Reviews

[InkyFingered]

Thank you very much for the lovely first review!

[Serena]

I love the imagery and personification of this. Very creative.