Poetry Blogs (2018, pen)

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When She Left

the pain of the vacant page                                      stage

for the dance

of my pen


the fear of the frozen mind                                        blind

  to the hope

 of a rhyme


the silence of an empty house                                spouse

to the song

of my word


the hush of unwanted time                                      chime


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A two week old cup of homemade lemonade right before I brush my teeth with vinegar

Losing all my trust,
yet I still believe you,
admitting my defeat.

You have lied,
many times before,
and you still told me things,
no body knows.

Showed your true colours,
but never showed your face.
Flirt with the thought of death,
somehow you were stopped,
but this time,
nothing stands in the way,
except for a bottle of rum,
a golden pen and a writing you'll never understand.

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My Dearest Friend

You have proven to be my biggest ally, knowing

Me better than anyone else.


Shaping my thoughts into the paper canvas, opening

A door for them to see into my world.


Grateful I am for your help, lost

I would be without you.


Thank-you for being by my side, and

For encouraging me to never give up.


My dearest friend, my

Silver pen.

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The Pen

"The pen is mightier than the sword"
- In general, I guess that's true
But mine's a lazy blighter;
It treats sloth as a damned virtue
It's not the liveliest of beasts
It's always at a halt
It likes staring at blank paper
As though that's the thing at fault
It lives a charmed sedentary life
Full speed is torpidly inert
It charges around at the pace of a slug
When flat out and a...

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penwriting poetry

The Usual

Sun through window,

Clock ticks.

I stare into space,

Blank mind like empty canvas.

Pen taps,


Failed slaughterer of time.


Work unfinished,

Clock ticks.

Cold coffee untasted,

I look at unread my emails,

and ignore them.



Clock ticks.

Clock ticks.

Clock ticks.


Shuffle papers,

Move mouse,

Press keys,

Clock ticks.


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entry picture


I have a special pen,

It always writes in black,

I thank it when I’m finished,

And it always thanks me back.

I have a special pen,

It lives on my lined paper,

I keep it along the right lines,

And It always returns the favour.

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