POETRY IS MY SANCTUARY
There was a time when the pen ran dry
For years, hibernated
She wallowed in poverty
For I had lost touch with her
Confused, sad, clueless
I thought of discarding her.
Of what use is a pen that has lost her quintessential essence?
She becomes worthless, useless and valueless.
She wallows in the cloaks of obscurity
For that which is meant to set her up on the rungs of fame and fortune
Becomes lost in the recesses of time
But dry as she seemed to be, I could hear her crying
Crying in a soft gentle tone
That she shouldn’t be discarded for she still had a long way to go.
I give the silent words emanating from my pen a rethink,
Then I realized my problems;
My pen was full of LIFE, but I was empty of LOVE
I begin to foster new thoughts…
In my moment of obscurity, in my moment of desolation
I try to heave out my pains, my sorrows
But it seems so difficult.
Confused, empty of meanings to explain my state,
A pretty damsel emerges from the blues,
Speechless, in my confused state
I try to cook up words to express how I feel seeing her, nothing forms,
Save for the incoherent giggles coming from my mouth
Then I remember she who gave me hope before I lost all hope-
my pen, my one good friend
I pick her up, and miraculously she is gay and merry with life.
Clutching her in my palms I could feel the warmth I never had
Flooding all over my system
I scribble out the following words on paper and in verse:
I LOVE YOU!
I LOVE YOU!!
Passed the piece to the damsel standing in front of me
Perplexed she was at first
Then dimples began settling on her cheeks
And before I knew it, she pasted me with a flurry of kisses and hugs
And my joy knew no bounds
Then did I realise that poetry is my sanctuary
And I definitely will write to glory.
COMPETITION: POETRY ABOUT POETRY