Tag Archive: paper


In Search of a Pen

A pen, a pen, oh! I searched for a pen!

But I found none

Not one that worked at all.

I needed to write it down

Needed to write again

But how could I when no pen was in sight?

The paper lay waiting

Hoping I could find a pen, so I may write on it.

-Maria Michaela

To Thee

Edgar wrote of Annabel Lee

Who lived in the kingdom by the sea.

I’d also like to write poetry

About my love to thee.

But feelings are hard to put into words.

How can I make it sweet like the chirping of the birds?

What sort of rhyme must I write

To let your emotions ignite?

Still, ideas escape me

Unlike Edgar who wrote about Annabel Lee.

My paper is still empty

And I still contemplate of that poetry

One that I’ll dedicate to thee.

©Maria Michaela

Typewriter

Old and worn

Feeling tired

It has witnessed many writings

Many changes 

Many stories

It is old

And it holds so many memories 

Letter

When was the last ti!e you wrote a letter?

To ask anything, like if someone was feeling better.

Can you still recall the last letter you wrote?

I wonder….

Writing Poetry

What good is a pen without a paper?
Much like a lover and a hater
They both need each other
And in some ways must come together

What is a poet without a poem?
No reason to rhyme at all
None at all

Maria Michaela

Paper Thin

I don’t see myself that way

And I refuse to do so

To undermine myself

To hate myself

To think that won’t be lovable unless

Or I’d only be accepted until

To kill myself slowly

Just to be a size zero

I can’t

I won’t

And I refuse to be pushed to do so

To think so

I hold the key

to imagination, a whirl wind of non-existent things

I move from one end of the world

and appear at the other side

 

I hold the key

pen and paper on hand

I open the doorway

make way for imagination!

The Affair

the pen and the paper

like coffee and pie

are great when they’re together

just like you and I

 

when the ink turns to words

it’s such a symphony

so breathtaking

it often over powers me

 

young was I when I first met you

looking at it now

I see an excellent view

 

I’m in love with writing

and I’m sure it feels the same

So I’ll continue this affair,

this fun little game

Inked

I bathe in black liquid, my head was fully soaked
my body was stiff — rigid, as the grip was held tight
the paper, solid white and blank, is now
littered with graffiti of handwriting
strokes, curves, dots – separated by spaces in between
what was thought of is now being written
 
I dive into that ooze of black liquid
as once again, another line, another word
needs to be written
smoothly I glide over the paper
as the writer does his job
writing in solid long-hand — beautifully written
 
I go into that bottle with the black liquid
once, twice…I lost count
yet I can’t complain as
the mark I leave behind, is as beautiful as a summer’s day

My Stubonr (stubborn) Pen

my pen does not know how to write.

it keeps spelling words wrongly, ugh….I meant incorrectly

and has a bad taste for grammar, (see what I mean?)

it does not write when I want to,

it just stares blankly at the paper.

“Write something, come on, write something”, I keep teling (telling) it

but no matter what I do, it won’t budge.

and when it finally wants to write,

it…blah bla blobs…writes nonsense, as what you’ve just seen

my pen is crazy, I think it’s possessed

it’s supposed to ooze with idea, yet it’s the reason why I’m having a writer’s block

I have a lot of ideas, but my pen just won’t right….hmmmm, write

I’m not sure if you can call this a poem

I’ll write better once my pen functions properly

 

stubborn pen!

unbolt me

the literary asylum

Rishita Sanya

What has to happen will happen...

Dr. Eric Perry, PhD

Psychology to Motivate | Inspire | Uplift

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