Places in a Pen

Places in a Pen

1/11/2015

I let my pen lead me to places unknown

To lands and countries where I won’t be alone.

Where I can speak to others and send them my words

Where those words can fly high like the wings of birds.

Words hold many a secrets, written in song

They show the whole world a way to be strong

Through showing us emotions, songs band us together,

To risk a cliché, they make us birds of a feather.

Or through words in poetry, written in verse

Through which many a century the reader may traverse

Back to olden days, where pens wrote great epics

And even children knew the value of poetics

Because glories were written to heroes and gods

And all across the land, words could trod.

But a pen in the right hand has powers so vast

That even people on high can’t find a way past

The places they lead to, the courses they lay

But those held on pedestals choose to put on a play

To avert the dull masses and disband the faith

They once held in writers whose words show the true face

Of the ones hiding secrets, and telling the lies

But who hold all the power, who seem so noble and wise.

My pen leads me to stories, of heroes and kings,

Or of beggars and thieves, or things that pull on the strings

Of what’s deep in your heart, which makes you feel joy or pain

And puts your mind in places that you cannot explain,

And they bring stories of people who live through hard times

Who are victims of war or abuse or of crimes

Or of people who live in a faraway place

Or were forced from their homes, from their own lands displaced,

Or stories of fantasy, where the hero’s a pawn,

Or mysteries, or adventures, must I go on?

Words bring us much but most aren’t aware

Of this wealth of intelligence and how much is there.

A large part of humanity won’t pick up a book

In which holds so much knowledge that they now overlook,

They won’t know any empathy or make a new friend

In the characters of a book, and they will not descend

Into wars so vile, and battles bloody and dark

And on glorious journeys they’ll never embark.

People don’t understand where my pen can take me

But the fault is their own and I am happy

To keep it myself, though I would like to share

I must leave it be as is only fair,

They must find for themselves the power pens hold

Because if not the feeling won’t be made of gold.

Writing is something that I do everyday

To get out my frustrations and push them away,

I use it to pull the stopper on my heart

So that turbulent emotions won’t tear me apart.

To force a love of writing and reading is bad

So I’ll leave them be until they take my hand

And choose to find joy in the words from a pen,

And then I hope that they can enjoy it again and again.