Black Ink Curls

The power of the written word,

Though dark at times, clears the cogs

Clears their rust, oils their grind.


 Like the panic of a hooked lined fish,

It thrashes me free, free from this barbed life,

Its, piercing strife.


Back into the darkest deep my mind swims,

In search of pearls, black ink curls,

And sunken treasured hymns.


Though my words may not ring bells for all,

My own church bell sounds

Unburdening with its chiming call.


Raises me up off my blackened knees,

Reveals the wood

Through darkened trees.


In lightest moments I pour words of love that if left, remain unsaid,

These words pour from my deepest heart,

My most secret head.

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

13 thoughts on “Black Ink Curls

  1. That’s very kind of you to say, I am quite critical of this one in some ways but it comes from the heart. Sometimes I can overthink it. I am a perfectionist so very rarely do I ever write something and feel 100% happy with it. Thank you for kind comment.


    1. That’s very kind of you to say, I wish you all the luck in the world and hope you find a calming mind space in your words. Cheers


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