The last stanza of this poem is one of my all-time favourites!
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| Photo by János Fehér |
A Pen Right Through
by Grace Pringle
In my heart they drove
a pen,
An act of iteration
To reach a desired
end.
Straight through, they
struck my heart.
A fire did consume my
mind,
Tearing my chest, a
flaming dart.
The ink injected,
Coursed through my
veins
Controlling and
infected.
A damaged passion did
ensue,
With a wounded heart,
And a pen right
through.
Still the command did
call,
And forced me to
write,
The story of
everything and all.
With pen strokes
uncertain,
A wavering mind,
Closed a word-ridden
curtain.
Pulling that pen from
my chest,
I wrote with that weapon,
A story that will
never rest.
Other poems by me:
