Uros Smudja Poet Free verse

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?

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Sunlite Wanter July 15, 2017 at 6:16 PM How can people, so ruined or aged, still contribute, if only with a prayer. Very nice poem.

Alex Roth July 4, 2017 at 9:45 AM This poem shows that personal revelation is often in our hands.

John Michaels June 25, 2017 at 5:13 AM A powerful and emotive write. Congratulations on having your poem featured! Regards, John.

Mona Motwani June 21, 2017 at 12:24 PM Nice lines, great feelings, wonderful message. ....!!:))

Chris Green June 15, 2017 at 6:53 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

Darren White June 15, 2017 at 3:36 AM You can, you just did.... A beautiful metaphor about uncertainty, and written in a great way. You can. Welcome to PoetrySoup :)