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Soft leather
of aged
perfection
hold delicate
parchment
in protective
embrace
awaiting
the keeper
and giver
of words
to spill
the ink
of eternal life
upon the
pages
breathing
breath into
every fiber
giving purpose
and meaning
paper and pen
become one
time stands
still
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by Jane Eliza
The Lost Poem
Sitting on the floor
of my bedroom
one evening
I took paper - scrap,
destined for lesser things
than penning a
Ink to paper, flowing swift
Words come into view
Delicate, or scribbling
Old words are made anew
Put in patterns, some unique
Darkness is so much more
Than a lack of light.
It has a life of its own;
A reverberating pulse
Pounding always, in the back
Of
Pen & Paper
Pen and paper,
Ink across the page...
Helps her escape,
From her invisible cage.
Feelings and emotions,
Pouring out
Three Senryu...
Last night's haiku
a moment forever lost
without pen and pad.
Found a scrap of paper
searching for a pen that
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Poetry: Pen & paper
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