Pens... pens... pens.
I simply cannot have enough!
I sometimes pinch one off my dad
To write my first drafts rough.
Without stationary,
Where would we poets be?
A creators bliss is to settle down
With pen, paper and tea.
Siege of the Golden Door
I heard their shouting as I slept,
The evil dead, straining at the gates of Hell.
With the spirits’ seven pens of light,
They maraud all from behind the golden door.
A warning: I must arm myself with lore,
To learn the way to shut that door
Before they come.
penniless poverty
penny dreadful, a dime novel
penny pinching miser
pennyworth bargain
penmanship, handwriting
pensive thoughts
penuriously poor
peon, pauper, slave
penitence, remorse
penetrate, invade
pending, undecided
penalize, fine
can you be fined for being penniless?
or writing something penny dreadful?
or for being a penny- pinching miser?
pens to ponder
Why do so many old pens love to write,
bright light comes from a lens.
Many write to their old friends.
How about to boyfriends?
fresh picked blueberries
stimulate poetic pens ~
my muse just wants pie
Will pens
(I'd have to think
when last I dipped mine in ink)
and sad to say
pencils go
the dodo's way
become extinct or obsolete
(oh no)
to the average man in the street
as if it weren't for junk mail
no matter how large or small
never mind trees and ecology
wouldn't have no mail at all
when I was young still a nipper
a lot more lively
hale hearty and chipper
had pen pals galore
now they're e-pals
it's done with thumbs
some folks use keystrokes
and I'm not sure
if anyone
writes letters anymore
The soul who pens poems
for a living
At the end of each day
what’s he taken
what’s he given
A perfectly gorgeous day remains
indescribable
All-in-all, his pursuit
inadvisable
To Live and Breathe Creating
…for some time
again
to rapidly wing
into joy
creating
with words as heartbeats
and lines
each sketched for breath
as these pens with their inks
draw in a song of solace
from creating
with its humbling thrill
given stroke by stroke
to designs discovering
thought arias
poetic murals
lit in symphonic chiaroscuro
for embroidered souls
flying the stunning winds
into Beauty…
————————————————
(c) art & poem sally young Eslinger
11/16/2023- 6/3/2024
Glory to God!
___" Paper and Pens " . . .
She found paper and a pen,
then wrote down her feelings,
creating something amazing.
She got lost in writing,
or you could say, poetry.
Where do all the pens go
that's what I wanna know
Did we give them to friends
who might keep them (depends)
Maybe burglars stole them
but not jewelry or gem
Or snagged by the goblins
scribbling with impish grins
They might move, we forget
--the final place it set
In a pile of papers
those inky escapers
Did they all take a hike
their pens' union on strike
Joined up with art supplies
--their artistic allies--
Hidden deep in the drawer
wishing to write no more
Check the desk! Check my purse
cuz nothing could be worse...
...than when a pen's needed
but they've all receded--
--to some faraway realm...
of untraceable whelm
(Inspired by Anne Frank's "Ode to my Fountain Pen")
If God had to write a poem
Being the best divine writer
Ever
This poem
Would have been very simple
No words
No swords
Writing on the parchment
No, this is not a sample
Of his mysterious accoutrement
Just blank pages
For the ages.
Copyright © April 2016, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
"The pen is mightier than the sword"
Said the towns' poet, a bit of a bard,
To the Chief of the military,
Challenged him to a duel, gave his shiny card
The card had his house no. and plot
The challenge? A battle to death
To see who will rot,
The Chief sharpened swords, the poet simply read
They got in battle, in the poet's house's battle ground,
The chief raised his mighty big knife,
The people sat waiting for this round,
This was a battle to death and life!
The poet then threw some ink on the chiefs eyes,
Blinded him, stabbed him with the pen, took all his 9 wives
Pens
for whom to share their writings
for whom to share their feelings
for whom to share their thinkings
Pens
to which it's a friend more than a foe
to which it could be full or hollow
to which i would love to show
Pens
from the tube to the nib to the schoolbook
from feathers to fountains to the workbook
from the store to the bag to the artbook
Pens
comes In every shape, size and colour
comes and goes in every way or another
comes in handy for a student and a writer
We who spangle wet eyes, salute proudly
our unflinching eyebrows.
We are the rubber band of rubber soldiers;
we who bundle the truth up-tight,
we war poets that never served
demand respect.
Some world weary solders
even claim they buried God
in a foreign field. “How sad” we say
and pray for those of such little faith.
We untested poets
simply ask that those in uniform
honor our literary efforts,
and try hard not to always see us
as firing pen, and paper ammunition,
at the foe,
while they laugh fit to bust.
Chances she had to be disruptive,
Like others try out The Abortive
And like them unleash The Eruptive,
But she chose to be The Supportive:
For the legs that hop a bit a prop,
To pens asking for more ink "Don't stop".
Soup I thank for proving me active
On matters hyping not The Native.
Tower she does with clean objective,
Her actions shaming The Subjective!
What a lovely meeting in Soup Hall
For slacking verses an overhaul;
Great ideas rolling like football,
Before Doubting Thomas I stand tall!
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