Eons old ink
Echo from the depths of the sea where the distelfink
Lay. It’s resting place discovered by divers who deserve to sink.
Not because of their ability to dive, but because of their ability to lip-synch.
What do I do, and to whom do I do it to? Think
I must, for I am on the brink
Of collapse. Do I go on living; knowing full well that this paper, on the brink
Of destruction, will lay forever on the bottom of the ink
Colored water from which my work was discovered. Think,
For my life depends on it, the life of my beloved distelfink.
This whole tiddly-wink of a subject puts a kink in my ability to lip-synch.
Wow, what a link I thought, might this have something to do with the ancient sink?
Yes, yes, but of course, the sink
Of my past people; presented nicely in the present. My people, on the brink
Of destruction, now have but one hope…my ability to lip-synch.
Where is my paper? Where is my ink?
I must create more, more distelfink!
What can I do, this is such a stink? How can I think
About the distelfink? When I must think
Solely about the outcome, the cease of distruction, to our precious ancient sink.
No, no my brain of pink must help me render up some distelfink.
**** my mind is not in sync! My body is on the brink
Because of how much I have to double-think. The ink
Will not flow, and with that, in a wink, I’ve lost my ability to lip-synch.
Outthink, outwit, out measure, I must regain my gift of lip-synch.
This cannot happen unless the cross-link in my brain fixes itself and allows me to think.
What will happen if my ability to think and cross-link forces me to ink?
Like an octopus scared for it’s life, scared that we may never save the sink.
Like blue-birds that can’t sing, I am on the brink
Of madness, madness at the thought of never completing my distelfink.
What if I never complete my distelfink.
Will I ever be able to lip-synch?
Will I constantly be on the brink
With the thought of not being able to think?
Will I save my people, my sink?
It all depends on my eons old ink.
Eons old ink creates pink water soaked distelfink
As it flows into the sink and out as lip-synch.
I must think or I will stay forever on the brink.
Feb 11, 2010
Feb 11, 2010 at 9:05 AM UTC
Eons old ink
Echo from the depths of the sea where the distelfink
Lay. It’s resting place discovered by divers who deserve to sink.
Not because of their ability to dive, but because of their ability to lip-synch.
What do I do, and to whom do I do it to? Think
I must, for I am on the brink
Of collapse. Do I go on living; knowing full well that this paper, on the brink
Of destruction, will lay forever on the bottom of the ink
Colored water from which my work was discovered. Think,
For my life depends on it, the life of my beloved distelfink.
This whole tiddly-wink of a subject puts a kink in my ability to lip-synch.
Wow, what a link I thought, might this have something to do with the ancient sink?
Yes, yes, but of course, the sink
Of my past people; presented nicely in the present. My people, on the brink
Of destruction, now have but one hope…my ability to lip-synch.
Where is my paper? Where is my ink?
I must create more, more distelfink!
What can I do, this is such a stink? How can I think
About the distelfink? When I must think
Solely about the outcome, the cease of distruction, to our precious ancient sink.
No, no my brain of pink must help me render up some distelfink.
**** my mind is not in sync! My body is on the brink
Because of how much I have to double-think. The ink
Will not flow, and with that, in a wink, I’ve lost my ability to lip-synch.
Outthink, outwit, out measure, I must regain my gift of lip-synch.
This cannot happen unless the cross-link in my brain fixes itself and allows me to think.
What will happen if my ability to think and cross-link forces me to ink?
Like an octopus scared for it’s life, scared that we may never save the sink.
Like blue-birds that can’t sing, I am on the brink
Of madness, madness at the thought of never completing my distelfink.
What if I never complete my distelfink.
Will I ever be able to lip-synch?
Will I constantly be on the brink
With the thought of not being able to think?
Will I save my people, my sink?
It all depends on my eons old ink.
Eons old ink creates pink water soaked distelfink
As it flows into the sink and out as lip-synch.
I must think or I will stay forever on the brink.
So yeah, it's a sestina. I wrote this my senior year of high school in my creative writing class. I thought I would challenge myself to write it with rhymes and it blew my class away....or just really confused them.