Poetic Intricacies. A poem by Leona Gilligan

The pen I hold with a humble stance,
Leaves a blob of royal blue on my index finger,
The trail seeping through the troughs and crevices of my unique fingerprint.

I gaze upon the blank crisp page,
A little excited but sullen,
As I know too well I can do injustice to it with just one quick swoop.

The creaking of the nib along with the scratching sound it makes as it swirls and swishes and licks the page with an intimacy I almost can’t bare to watch.

Ethereal and almost paranormal, my soul separates from the physical and my own consciousness takes on its own, as I merely take a seat and watch my creation come to life upon a page that was just blank a few seconds ago.

The creature dressed in royal blue, meanders and navigates its way along the crisp white, so theatrical I almost become consumed with the intimate act.

How does my consciousness know such things, how can a blank crisp page be the start of so many rewards to the soul?

The tattoo of royal blue remains with the soapy bubbles I now rub and fill the crevices of my print with, I stepped away from the ethereal, my chair grating against the solid oak floor.

Consciousness returns to the physical and I am at one, at peace with the full impregnated page that lays upon the table, naked in its form, completely fulfilled.

A dusty mirror hangs from a nine inch nail, carefully driven into the wood that embraces it.

I catch a smile trace across my lips and blue eyes look back until another tale is being told.


I’ve never been published for my poetry work but would love the opportunity to work with a publisher some day. I’ve never taken a course or anything for poetry writing. It just comes from inside. My name is Leona Gilligan I’m 35 and I’m from Athlone.

1 Comment

  1. Captured the writing experience beautifully.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *