In the brilliant white desk drawer,

With its organizers holding paper, notecards, highlighters, and more.

There is something there.


Silvery-gray body 

Sleek as silk.

Pure black ink flows out like a waterfall.


It travels with its owner

To the office and airport.


Words hidden inside, wanting to burst out,

Onto the crisp white paper.

We both have ideas.

We both are surrounded by work supplies, and find a joy in it.


It represents a work of art,

With words or lines.

This object helps express what I feel.


I use it more than once or even twice.

I always have one of its brethren with me.

This object that I cherish is a pen.


  • Goldfinch60

    Those pens can be so powerful in our hands as the words from our hearts flow though them onto the paper.


  • L. B. Mek

    a mighty weapon, in the hands of a poet
    for good or bad?
    only that crude integrity of a mind's: ink
    can truly reveal...
    a wonderful read, thanks for sharing

    • M.E.M.

      That’s good! thanks for sharing

    To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.