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Poem

THE PEN, THE POET & THE POEM

Perfect picture painting a Poets palava,
And divisible dimensional dilemma:
Like a child surrounded by teddys & toys
To make a confusing costly choice;
Loose the pen & play the pipper,
Or choose between the pen & paper.
My pen I choose, though words reside in me, 
The inks temporal ambition is to be
the being inside, on hand to always akin
to superfluity the universe blows in.
I'd write all my emotions all over my skin.
The Poem is the Poets next of kin,
No matter what you think,
in the world's ear his words will sink.
I am a bleeding poet with gush of ink, 

words cascading from fountains of imaginations. 
With no paper, I'd cloth myself with my muse.
Paint me a poet with a voiceless voice, 
words would still speak than world's noise. 
The Pen might be mightier than The Poet but then,
The Poet is the life and breath of The Pen.
Let The Pen breath to marinate The Poem.
Reserve a thought for these threesome at the helm.
I'm not just The Poet whose works lies on your shelf
but I am the emotions you feel, The Poem itself.

Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright© February, 2021.

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