Wednesday, November 30, 2011

My Pen Is...

Tis a poem about writing.

A natural tool of emotion
Sometimes its not my choice
It causes commotion
I substitute out my voice
Not quite a flower
Sometimes it becomes a sword
When it receives sudden power
I use it when I’m bored
My pen is,
The source from which feeling flows
My pen is,
Spewing ink and now it shows
My pen is,
Harder in my hand as it grows
Full of substance and age
These things build over time
Pieces of myself on the page
Nobody said it was a crime
Sweet honey or poisonous nectar
Are the potential products
Produced in that sector
When my mind runs amuck


  1. Amazing, but look at this sentence:

    "The source source from which feeling flows"

    I'm thinking source isn't supposed to be there twice!

    <3 your loving sis(:

  2. I like it, Josh. Nice to hear rhyming now and then. Even from a pen. Oops, now ya' got me doing it. ;)

  3. Lolz thanks Larri, I fixed it now.

    And thanks for the feedback, Mrs. Thompson!

  4. This "My Pen Is " poem brings me a rediculous amount of happiness,

  5. RiDICKulous and Happenis. Ah, I love duality.