Love for Pen and Pen for Love
Shortly Sweet
This pen may sing
a love song,
but I can both
love and hate
its ink.
It will mate
with this page--
cut a mark in jet or red or blue;
beat out
A LOVE SONG:
"I burn, and
am ice":
(been said b4/read b4).
What is Love?
[Too Late,]
sips of kiss past
the glow way down low
will fade: the Fate
of an
Ink
Well
to sink
or sell...
The Pen Can Call it Back.
Now,
come
fix
some
mix;
RING!
SING! [and tell]
What is this Love?
it can not be seen,
but you can pen it.
So,
say
who
will
pray thru to May:
prey thru to May
A year has gone/
A year has come/
A new pet\
A new set\
this rain as thin as ink and
pain as cute as cats and dogs--
a loss each kid can cry:
The Pen Can Call it Back.
I love, and I hate;
why do I do it, you ask?
Don't know;
but I felt it and bled,
saw it and fled. So I sing of
pain for the pen
in true mark of love:
A NOTE.
About the Creator
Rob Angeli
sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt
There are tears of things, and mortal objects touch the mind.
-Virgil Aeneid I.462
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More stories from Rob Angeli and writers in Poets and other communities.
Love Before First Sight
This piece is part pastiche, part translation, and part original composition. It is intended to produce an impression on the English language reader of the beauty of the love poetry of the troubadours. This movement flourished in the south of France, between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries, in a language called Old Provençal or Old Occitane. Both poetry and prose will be used to render this.
By Rob Angeli11 months ago in Poets
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis5 days ago in Humans
Comments (9)
R, this was an amazing 4 letters or less poem! It was insight, unique and so well written! I enjoyed your word choices and the narrative voice you chose! It was relatable and such a great read! Nicely done!
Such brilliant use of imageries! Your poem was so beautifully written. I loved it!
Beautiful poem
This is wonderful, the ending is a good punch.
rain and pain
What an amazing piece! I love your style, and particularly thought this repeated line was earth shattering: “The Pen Can Call it Back” Great work, especially within the confines of the four letter word limitation! 👏🏽💫
Beautiful poem. You might take a second look though. "Which" and "swell" are 5. Maybe a quick edit would help. Good luck.
" I can both love and hate its ink."...I really loved this, and so much else about this piece! Very creative and unique, sifting between rhyme and non-rhyme - it's all quite nice and refreshing :)
Stellar!