Poems

I Am A Pen

I Am a Pen.

Pens are like a colourful rainbow in a tube.

They are me, I am a pen.

The colours are everywhere I look.

This beautiful exhibition of colours

Raining on the world with every shade they have.

Black, blue, red, gray,

Purple, green, orange, yellow,

Neon, pastel, so many colours to choose from.

If you are a fountain pen,

Unscrew the lid and let the colours run free,

Let yourself go.

It's as if a rainbow threw up on a piece of paper,

That is me.

An array of colours everywhere.

They are like happiness.

I am a pen.

I am used for graffiti.

I am the street art, spray-painting, inscriptions, drawings,

Defacement,

I am all of these things, so many to choose from.

I am so indecisive;

Do I draw a lion,

A rainbow, a couple, a dog.

So many choices to choose from.

So many compelling colours.

So many ways to use them.

I am the pen.

It comes alive as you drag it across the page.

Coming to life, coming to get you through the various colours of ink.

The pastels,

They barely say anything sometimes,

Compared to the screaming neons that haunt your eyes.

The blacks and blues say 'hello' to you every now and then.

I am like the pen in these ways.

Sometimes they're left to sit in a drawer to rot away,

To collect dust.

It's like if you forget about them and don't use them,

They won't care,

But they do.

You can't just forget about one of them,

They have feelings too.

They are supposed to be used frequently.

Use it for a simple note,

Something.

Anything.

I am that pen.

Colourful.

Unused.

Unwanted.

Beautiful.

Indecisive.

Different sizes.

Bright.

Dull.

Dim.

So many things to describe this work of art.

I am that work of art,

I am that pen.