Posted in Poetry

Paper With Pen

Paper with Pen
Kay Rice

The fire burns while the pen is in my hand,
Ashes fall in time like grains of sand.
It takes only a blink and I go back in time,
Sorting out feelings through prose and rhyme.

The muse who persists, whispers in my ear,
She knows when that ripple in time is near.
She grabs on tight as she lets me know,
Until I give in, and it’s off we go.

Memories or moments that haunt my dreams,
Whether my own, or from another I’ve seen.
Chaotic like an artist’s brush to canvas,
Painting a picture on paper to last.

Words become the path to heal and explain,
Verses to rejoice in life or cure the pain.
A voice which once was silenced and drowned,
From a whisper now grown, to a trumpet’s sound.

If one word I write on paper with pen,
Brings up feelings deep in you, from within,
To know you are not lost and alone,
Then these words have at last, found a home.

Words of love and rage, joy and fear,
My little muse keeps them all nestled here.
On paper with pen she recites them out loud,
Until they reach the one who needs found.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
KAY RICE

Author:

I have always said that my poetry and short stories write themselves, I'm just the hand that holds the pen. Several of my poems have been published in local publications and in the 2011 World Poetry Movement book 'Stars in our Hearts'. Please enjoy the words, but do not steal them. I enjoy living and what life brings my way. My day job, I'm a geekgirl, a programmer. Coding is like using clues to solve a mystery to me. But, my happiness outside of the day job involves, cooking, baking, knitting, crocheting, writing, hiking, primitive skills. Yup, I come home and unplug. So there are many sides of me here. Enjoy.

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