Pen

Could there ever be a world without a pen? - Laying down a stolen thought from torrid minds, Yearnings of a lonely heart, Secret entries of a girl That in her father's eye would Call upon the rage of Hell … Or simple notes - nudges For the memory of self; Doodles in the boredom. I could never dream of days devoid of ink. What of Toils of talent honed in literary cliques, A poet in romantic storm, A novel born of devastating yarns? And the harmony and melody of tune - A mighty mind of music penning out Contortions of emotion thro' the scale And clef to let the hand in play Convert the purple into soulful airs, Or rhapsodies or other lyric forms; Musician's tears to titillate - enchant A silent house until the end, When approbation will resound! I could never live a life bereft of quills - What a barren crux for humankind - A dearth of scholars' tomes, An author's prose no more to share - The belletristic want would kill the mind In such a bleak affair. Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010 poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry poetry