Running Paper Poem by Daniel Y.
Running Paper
I saw my essay running away, with folded legs and pointed toes;
scurrying away from me,
to seek the unknown freedom from a writer’s hand.
I chased it long and hard, for my dreams and thoughts it had stolen.
But it stepped in a puddle, and lost its legs.
Laying down. Twitching in the breeze.
We both lost that day. Our dreams dissolved.
So in my dreary writer’s block, I mourn the loss of hope.
Listen close, I see my fatal error:
I did not give it wings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 9:13:47 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I like this poem. It's an example of what I'll call strong personification as the essay takes off on its own to write its own destiny, so to speak. I can understand the writer's fatal chasing of it, too; it's his intellectual property that's printed there. So there's a believable conflict here. I think your closing lines are inspired. I should have given it wings. Yes! That's precisely the task of the writer, to give what he writes the resources, the impulse, the freedom to exist on its own. There's a lot of truth about creative writing just below the surface of this poem about paper.