Calligraphy - A Poem

[Blightsong he/him]

Wrote this and thought a few people here could relate to a couple aspects of this poem, let me know what you guys think!

CALLIGRAPHY

My father’s letters blot a supple canvas.

Calligraphy soaked the pulp with beauty

innate, intricately symbolic patterns

intertwined. In the designs I see myself.

Not scribbles in a thrown away note,

but a note of discord’s complex clef,

a cutting pitch within a careful lattice of music.

Father’s cordial warmth is seen, not heard.

Illustrated in the way his loving arms caress my

mother. His brown limbs, a taboo, are tattooed

with symbols of culture. He exists as one in discord

as his dark skin contrasts my mother’s pale frame.

Those he touches are his canvas of affection.

I was born as one, my skin colored fawn.

My father inscribed it, conferring love, culture,

and a burning crimson passion for words.

The pen’s strokes bleed through paper

and into the next medium. My blood, his.

[Nathrangking he/him]

Powerful stuff. As one who is a poet I can say that this is an effective storytelling method. Well done.