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BungeeGum May 2020
There are crafts of countless drafts on this blank page,
accounts of my days of happiness or rage are on this blank page,
hinted goals and affirmations are blueprinted on this blank page,
look and you shall find that my mind roars it's thoughts unfiltered on this blank page,

Behold a story begins to unfold on this blank page.

Ink jives it's hips, thrives in it's own motions and clicks it's fingers in rhythm to the writers melody that lingers,
In order to transcribe what you're trying to describe to the mass of one or many on this blank page,

Sentences are redacted,
subtracted from the line of sight equating to something that now means nothing,

Why?

It could be a mistake,
a misfire of  the message I attempted to make,
thinking I had it locked and loaded,
Ready to shoot it across this blank page,

Or...

It could be that I find it unnecessary to reveal deep parts of me,

So...

I become hell bent on destroying any trace that may possibly leave my scent in this blank page,

The land of doodles,
far and wide is it's reach,
with the population consisting of ...
stick-mankind,
Talking poodles,
Confetti filled with noodles,

Whatever you can think of is there in this blank page.


On this blank page I stare deep into it's void and wonder....

What shall we do today ?
Theia Rhea Jan 2019
Gadiaseite ~ gad-EEE-ah-site ~ NOUN
Definition:
The great abyss of the empty page, a wishing well with churning waters so deep you can't see the bottom—only the shimmer of coins shine through, entwined with the efforts of past attempts—you can recover the wishes but only if you hold your breath and dive into the unknown waters.

Etymology:
Derived from the Latin word Gaida meaning waiting and the German word Seiten meaning pages.
“Oh God, You're a poet
And I, I was Your blank page,
Rather the blank page of a poet,
Than the blank page of man

Rather the blank page of someone who already envisioned me as a masterpiece,
Than the blank page of man

Yes, even before He poured out His ink heart on me,
He saw me, with all the hidden words that were scribbled across me
All the fears, hopes, dreams and wishes inked so wildly
Oh man, I was His pièce de résistance

Last night I was staring at this blank page,
But little did I know that it was staring at me,
Waiting for me to turn it into a written work of art
And just then I realized, I was staring at my reflection

This revelation brought clarity to every blank page on Earth
Oh God, we are Your work of art” - Demi.M Potts
Meg B Feb 2017
How long does it take
for the urge to fade?

I still
search for shelter in your
words and phrases

but there is nothing more written
on those pages.
Joel Johny Jan 2017
A Blank paper has unlimited possibilities
When you write,
Its like re-creating yourself
Mind connects with the page
All the thoughts spread in a meaningful order...
Writing may be a diminishing art,
But whatever you write..
It stays eternal and cant be destroyed..
If i paint my feelings on paper,
Like a portrait..with light and shade
Would you hang it on your wall?
When i got a writers block(condition where the writer stares at a blank page or screen for hours without writing anything),i got this amazing idea..hope your mind connects with each line..:D
CJ Nov 2014
I've written and scratched off
thousands of words that
I used to describe you,
Yet I'm still left with a blank page.
What am I to do with this?
I've written so much about you;
Every thoughts I have
Is a silent scream
That terrifies me to let out.
This blank page you left me
Leaves me thinking this lonely night,
So silent and calm that even in this darkness
I can hear that silent scream, **"I LOVE YOU."
Alain Gonzalez Oct 2014
__________
The blank page is a loaded gun, dangerous,
full of beauty's entropy and combinatory dreams.
It's open source ethos, fidgeting with splendor,
with that momentum white of the sea at morning.
It's not a desert, for whoever's sake, is not a cliff,
neither where your mind goes make snow angel ideas,
nor a mute inbox that you keep refreshing:
The mind is just filled with horror for the void
when there's nothing else.
The blank page is a loaded gun,
a uranium mine field waiting for a chain reaction,
where the feelings will collapse upon themselves
and hurt the reader       by wounding the page,
the ink bled a testament to the violence
of the rapture always waiting to be born.
Published in Ginosko Literary Journal
http://ginoskoliteraryjournal.com/images/ginosko14.pdf

— The End —