The pen is stored standing,
awaiting a time when it will be
The paper is neatly filed away,
resting, before its daunting task
The pen, still standing,
patiently bides its time until
The paper lies waiting. Waiting
for creativity to be poured over
The pen is preparing--
Readying itself to be
The paper anxiously
removes itself from the stack
to be alone.
The pen thrusts itself
onto the page, wanting to be bled
of all emotion.
The page is open, excited
to finally express all that will
But there is no one to bleed the pen,
no one to understand the want of the page.
And so there, on the grand desk, lies a piece of paper
that will never know the freedom for which it searched--
and a lonely pen full of dreams; a pen that will soon
I thought I'd let some of you know about my new forum, since I don't log into this community as often as I should.
Here, you can post your poems, art, animations, paintings, sculptures, music, or whatever else you create, and share it with people who want to see it.
see you there