Timeserving Times
Learning to write with those quills first
Then, in fountain pens, immersed
Ballpoints are the best; they advertise
Computer writings, now, immortalize
My quill in a nook stands as a humble servant.
My once-favourite pens remain with their nibs bent.
As a friend in one's poverty, forgotten when one grows rich
Has modernity made a void within artistry's niche?
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Categories:
ballpoints, change,
Form: Free verse
Artists All
He had long hair once.
She wrote alone in her knickers'
drinking German wines.
He painted dark clouds
that never rained.
Savvy punk word-painters
slam down their ill-tempers
with blunt ballpoints of anger.
Romantic poets running in circles
yapping like Yorkshire Terriers.
Overwrought poetess
banging on about 'daddy'.
Overweight myopic philosophers
creating visual masterpieces.
He draws his thoughts
with the chalky dust
of crow bones,
black birds watch
his hocus-pocus from afar.
The shyly brazen, always
sculpting heart-stomping elephants.
She is lovely seen by
the bottom of a beer glass.
Artists all,
all sketching their faces
looking for someone
to pick them up
to play along
with their solitary games
forever.
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Categories:
ballpoints, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Pen and Ink
Started out in a bank as a bookkeeper and teller
Pen and ink was used to enter in the daily ledger
Ballpoints weren't around
Their secret wasn't found
Till a few years later, it became a top seller
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Categories:
ballpoints, old,
Form: Limerick
Thirsty Seven, 37
I have a chest of smoke and a heart of ashes;
I have a breath that chocks and liver that burns;
I have rolls of brown paper and an ashtray of choices
These lungs are a hearth of nine hundred and eight cigarettes
And now I have burnt out all my dreams.
I have guts that fear and a mouth of lies,
This tongue is a needle, living in a scabbard of flesh and bone.
I have a palm of earth and eyes that hopes but
This life is a winter of fates and other things I cannot change.
My feet are bleeding ballpoints
But I keep walking in circles
and now this story has lost its plot.
I have sockets of remorse and a pocket of a thousand nails
A thousand nails to mend my broken big old pride.
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Categories:
ballpoints, age, anxiety, cancer, depression,
Form: Free verse
Infinite Journeys
The journey’s long;
no time to rest.
It must be done;
a soul’s great test.
Life after life;
death after death.
The challenge hard,
that must be met.
Classes on planets,
far and wide;
educate all souls,
who come to alight.
The ever-turning,
ballpoints of time;
write mystical novels,
line after line.
While mortality,
Finite, it may be;
immortal souls
sail to infinity.
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Categories:
ballpoints, allegory, death, inspirational, spiritual,
Form: Rhyme
Business of a Pen
Is this the business of a pen?
To drunkenly prod, be prodded to papers,
an endless stream of albino acquaintances? The life of a slave child,
briefly met with brothers in arms
only to be torn away from plastic home for a life of forced labor. A sorry fate,
often discarded before its time, before the well is dry and off it goes
(to sleep?) beneath landfill sky. A surer destiny,
a designed purpose, that which all humans lack on this earth, this side of Jesus Christ.
Tell me, oh lord, of the ordained switch from quills to ballpoints.
Did you lament the gossiping gulls, who ‘doth protest too much’?
What is even the business of a gull? What would it make of my drunken pen?
A nest, no doubt.
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Categories:
ballpoints, introspection, business, life,
Form: Free verse