"Etchings of Words," A Poem
The door is adorned with empty lines
and there are no locks, no bolts, no handles.
What lies beyond the door
The mind hears knocks,
wind coming from behind the door.
The hum of detectives, lovers, birds
pouding on the door.
The sound starts to blend into one harmony —
loud voices where emotions and notes are expressed.
It bears the marks of streaks
and shrieks for the knight in shining armor
until the writer has no other choice,
but to push the door
that is littered with crumpled pieces of paper
etched with pen marks, pencil marks, and eraser shavings.
Unleash the imagination,
it flows endlessly like the words in language.
Simply like turning the pages of a novel,
silence the voices
by creating more voices.
Without the pounding anymore, there’s music —
lyrics of stories decorate and blur,
the door is painted with words.