Trevor Mcleod Poet Quatrain

Behold My Pen

Behold my pen
that writes and scribbles
and bleeds blue ink
in drips and dribbles.

That crosses paper
in bites and nibbles
and weighs my thoughts
in spite of quibbles.

Words as strange as
this and then.
Letters and numbers
like S and 10.

Thoughts and feelings
I've had before.
Memories waiting
the pen to bore.

Lines as long
as stretching can.
Jots and jolts
where each began.

Loving strokes
to those I send.
Messages made
that they might blend.

All these meanings
from the heart.
Behold my pen.
Their only art.

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