Pen Poem

poetry

This feels a bit darker than most of my poetry, but I did just watch a rather dark movie this past weekend. I realized just how beautiful darkness can be. Although, I still do prefer light and happy topics.

Pierce me with your ink fill sword,
force your words to linger
as they twist inside,
because murder is never sweet,
unless it’s in the mind
causing a new reality to live.
So murder my mind
with words of wonder.
Let the sharp bladed images
of your prose or verse
slice out the mundane,
so that I may live among your ink
until the new understandings take hold
and I am reborn with new light.

In This Moment ( a monologue)

writing

What is important in my life at this moment? I am,well me and how the ink of my pen looks as it glides across the page. The shapes and lines of the words could be art in of themselves. Simple, smooth, yet they still hold a quality of complexity.

No, nothing to serious is important to me at this moment. I don’t have the energy to think to deeply on any subject. Instead I will simply watch the shapes come to life as my pen drags on.

Perhaps it is the light of the setting sun causing the almost magical make up of the ink on the paper or perhaps it’s the difference in pen. Have I become so accustomed to the think bold lines of my newly bough fountain pen already, that this thin lines ball point pen looks more elegant with its writing? I will say that it is a combination and leave it at that. I know it will not matter in a moment or two either way, when the sun sets or my mind wonders to the next topic to create.

Either way and for what ever the reason pen to paper is what is important to me at this moment.