Words Spill Out

Words Spill Out

 

 

Torn open,

words spill from my wound,

leaping off the paper,

cascading to the floor.

Chasing them,

they tumble out the door.

Reaching out, they elude my grasp.

Following I become lost.

 

An empty ache torments my mind,

wondering where they vanished to.

Capturing one,

then another,

but there is no cohesion.

Phrases running amok in my head,

drift slowly to my pen.

 

But alas, there is no tale to tell,

only words stacked up one

against another.

They will not align themselves

to paint the image that I hold within.

No panacea for my plight.

Another day,

another week,

and words spill out again.

 

 

 

Ann Christine Tabaka

 

 

Ann Christine Tabaka has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize in Poetry, has been internationally published, and won poetry awards from publications. She lives in Delaware, USA.  She loves gardening and cooking.  Chris lives with her husband and two cats. Her most recent credits are: Ariel Chart, Page & Spine, West Texas Literary Review, Oddball Magazine, The Paragon Journal, The Literary Hatchet, The Stray Branch, Trigger Fish Critical Review, Foliate Oak Review, Better Than Starbucks!, Anapest Journal, Mused, Apricity Magazine, The Write Launch, The Stray Branch, Scryptic Magazine, Ann Arbor Review, The McKinley Review. *(a complete list of publications is available upon request)