Poetry: The Pen is Held

Hello again,

A proper sonnet, for all those unfulfilled, young poets out there.


The Pen is Held

The pen is held; again the ink will flow.
And in that while I’m lost in thoughts of rhyme:
The unimagined couplet that I know
Will come into existence, given time.
I hope. But as I push and pull I lose
Myself in practised jerks – I squeeze the nib
And fantasize about the poem who
Will squirm beneath my weight. And breathe. And live.
If only. I have written in a burst
And ink already stains the sheets I turn
In nightly bouts of poorly practised verse,
I practice poetry that can’t be learned
Alone. The poet holds his pen to write
And quickly dissipates his dull delight.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s