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Black Pen

I grab my pen Black and used up The glass cracked and fragile Covered by the cap Cheap and lost Then given to me I could do better But that's not what I need This pen is mine Broken, yet precious It writes sharp lines That somehow form words And that to me is insane How something so ruined Can still do so much How a pen that's falling apart Can still create art Why can't I?

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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Date: 7/15/2017 6:16:00 PM
How can people, so ruined or aged, still contribute, if only with a prayer. Very nice poem.
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Date: 7/4/2017 9:45:00 AM
This poem shows that personal revelation is often in our hands.
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Date: 6/25/2017 5:13:00 AM
A powerful and emotive write. Congratulations on having your poem featured! Regards, John.
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Date: 6/21/2017 12:24:00 PM
Nice lines, great feelings, wonderful message. ....!!:))
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Date: 6/15/2017 6:53:00 AM
I am with Darren below...you just did create art. Regardless of the pen, broken or not, the imagination and creativity of a poet will always flow out. Nicely done and welcome to soup
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Date: 6/15/2017 3:36:00 AM
You can, you just did.... A beautiful metaphor about uncertainty, and written in a great way. You can. Welcome to PoetrySoup :)
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Book: Shattered Sighs