Poetry: My pen - by J Meckes

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by J Meckes

Created on: June 19, 2008 Last Updated: June 24, 2009

My Pen

My pen bleeds me like a knife,
giving expression to my life.
Nothing I think, do, or say
will live longer than today,
unless my pen lets me survive
long after my demise.

Who will know much of me
without my written legacy
Who I was and what I thought
all my horrid demons fought.
My loves, my hates, my sins untold
bled on paper so loud and bold.

Hopes and dreams like shifting sand,
the passing of time I cannot command.
Was I a Saint? Was I a Sinner?
It's a moot point when death is the winner.
But my pen, a knife in reality
bleeds my life's . . . . immortality.

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Poetry: My pen

1 of 30

by Olivia Bredbenner

It rests carefully hardly anyone knows
The ink it has shed and the stories it told
Yet all the while bearing my ebb and flow
2 of 30

by G E Barr

My Pen

Lies between the pages

Of some book

I keep going back to

Over and over

I want not

For the ink to dissipate
3 of 30

by Ann Caimen

Born to Create

To think such a small item, the pen,

Can hold so much power.

The words it helps create,

The messages
4 of 30

by Jon Coe

My pen leans forward, sometimes holding back
these words that are writing, filling out my lack
Gripping tightly, slippery,
5 of 30

by Moeze Lalji

My pen
He thinks
He is a great boss

If I had
Not bought him

He thinks
My writing would
Be sleeping

On shelves
On dust
For years

Undiscovered

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