My Hand, My Pen, My Paper #Poetry

My hand, it grasps,
a withered pen,
dry and old,
yet perfect all the same

My pen, it dances,
across the milky paper,
smooth and neat,
yet messy all the same

My paper, it shouts,
words, phrases, stories,
depressing and gloomy,
yet cheerful all the same

Note : Just a little poem that I thought up one night

23 thoughts on “My Hand, My Pen, My Paper #Poetry

  1. Great piece. I love the part “My paper, it shouts,” great visual. I imagined taking the pen away from the paper and the words just bleeding through as if it were magic ink… the paper has its own mind. Great post.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. “My hand, my pen, my paper…”: I like the dualities you write about. Though, your script may not be the fanciest, it is still your own. Your hand might not be the sturdiest, but again it’s yours none the less. Sometimes are writing may not be beaches and ski lodges or resorts, and may be the psych ward, the hospital, but we can celebrate the “I” the personal pronoun, whoever that is–the importance in the unstated, “just write”. Thank you, for sharing.

    Liked by 2 people

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