Let it Flow (Ink Pen)

 

The pen is held; again the ink will flow.
And in that while he lost in thoughts of rhyme:
The unimagined couplet that he know
Will come into existence, given time.

He hope. But as he push and pulled lose
himsel self in practised jerks – he squeeze the nib
And fantasize about the poem who
Will squirm beneath his weight. And breathe. And live.

If only. He have written in a burst
And ink already stains the sheets he turn
In nightly bouts of poorly practised verse,
He practice poetry that can’t be learned

Alone. The poet holds his pen to write
And quickly dissipates his dull delight.