I Only Hold the Pen
A poem that comes at night without a thought in mind
Words appearing outside a plan yet finds a place to opine
They seem to lie in wait, for a chance to take a bow
completing the lines in need and leaving me to wonder how
Words, plucked out of the air while clamoring around for a rhyme
And battling the thief of words, an unknown in this space and time
Not seeming to be apart, yet, volunteering for the issue at hand
Slipping in under the radar searching for a master plan
A poem appears on my page built with suspicious means Words written without a thought at least, to me it seems
The poem master comes riding high and lifts a calloused hand
My horse, running with an empty saddle; I only hold the pen
The master knocking down the blocks that mute the good ideas
Unbolting the door that locks the mystery where useful words Appear
He rides to ensure success when the wreckers of the brain come in
I’m at a loss to his confusing ways, I only hold the pen
Copyright © Patrick Kelly | Year Posted 2022
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