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My pen is always near at hand, waiting for my gentle grasp to give it the chance to fulfill its purpose. It seems to be anticipating being held as if we tango together in a ritual dance. When I'm fueled with the fire to write ink flows from my mind to my fingers— from pen to paper as if I were a draper of words and in each line of poetry my passion lingers in the form and fashion I chose to write each day. There is an elegance to the artistry of poetry, using fabrics as soft and diaphanous as chiffon. Romantic sonnets are sewn with silken threads that weave together, both love and desire. Haiku verses describe golden skies of dawn as if the sun awakens each morning as a phoenix rising amid orange flames of fire. There are times when I'm driven to capture and extol the glory I see when a fragile fern frond unfurls, or the tremulous steps taken by a foal, only hours old, the shapes of clouds as they billow and sweep across the expanse of blue canvas as if they are pearls. I have need to breathe life into the visions I keep ready for words I'll leave behind some may never see— as a legacy of my thoughts on life's joys and derision. Oddly, I always feel some could use editing and revision. My pen finds a way to blend my emotions, where its ink can be droplets of shed blood or tears, but never will it be choked off, replaced by AI. I'm sure it would rather be thrown into an ocean's depth before forgiving me and would rather its ink run dry. I cannot fathom attaching my name to falsify a poem I've not written on my own accord. That's an accusation I will never have need to deny. In shame, I would hang my head and ask my pen to become a sword and in reprimand, cut off my hand— a loss I could neither tolerate nor afford.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 6/11/2025 5:19:00 PM
Lin, it it interesting that you circled around to AI at the end of this poem. However, it's relevant to what we do these days. Poems about writing and what motivates us are all very interesting. It takes a deep look at the entire process and where inspiration comes from. You have an incredible ability to translate feelings into words in a poetic fashion that seems just right to me. It's close to perfect!! Smiles!!
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Date: 6/10/2025 10:20:00 AM
Dear Lin, Wow your pen is a restless partner today sharing deep secrets only your hand can answer. I see ink sprawling like a fern at dawn passion articulated into every line. As I read, I saw each word a pearl tossed across blue canvas. Isn't poetry such a living dance a legacy of honesty where every drop of ink refuses to be anything but human? Poetry is alive with real blood, sweat and tears, and the refusal to let anything but truth touch the page. Marvelous! Blessings, Dear Lin, Daniel
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Lin Lane
Date: 6/10/2025 10:28:00 AM
It's a living dance to poets like us and others who write their own words, Daniel. Anything else should not be labeled 'poetry.' It should be alive with emotions that were actually felt, with tears cried, with hearts that beat when a loved one draws near. We've touched every emotion that we've given life to, and spilled tears of joy and sadness on the pages we've filled with ink. Thank you very much, Daniel.. human poet ;-)
Date: 6/9/2025 6:32:00 PM
A magnificent study on the sacred process of making poetry...could only have been written by someone in love with poetry, has a house for it in the soul, nurtures its source and defends it against the demonic hoards of AI. Genuine creativity comes through...it always sounds solid and does not echo the hollowness of those satisfied with pretense and sham. Well done dear Lin.
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Lin Lane
Date: 6/9/2025 7:31:00 PM
Paul, your descriptive observation of this one shows me you discern what poetry means to me, not just what my words express, but also what I've left unwritten. Grateful is the word that comes to mind when another poet can read me and know my intent so well. Thank you for your ability to do that.
Date: 6/9/2025 12:07:00 PM
I think of all the poems written about the detrimental effects of AI on literature and poetry, this is the most personal and damning Lin, your conscience is clear so no need to amputate your hand, it’s a real shame that Admin are incapable or/and reluctant to root it out of PS once and for all; a very well penned (human) poem, cheers David
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Lin Lane
Date: 6/9/2025 12:17:00 PM
Your opinion has always carried great weight with me, David. This has been true about my poetry as well as personal moments in my life. Friendships forged are what keeps me here. When I started writing this, I had no intention of addressing AI, but this was one of those "I shall follow where my pen leads" poems that refuses to detour. Thank you for your support and encouragement... always grateful that you still stand in my corner. ;-)

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