My pencil’s charged with poetry.
It can write verses fluidly
and inscribe them on the sheet
in rhyme and perfect metric feet.
It’s such a simple artefact
but filled with magic that’s a fact.
A pristine page is quite enough
to make my pencil do it’s stuff.
My pad, my pencil and my muse
can’t see a challenge and refuse
A blank page they can’t bear to see.
That why I’m writing poetry
I have a pad I have a pen
which forces me to write again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Cool Ivor! And as each challenge it is through, you then again, start one brand new! Friend -Thad *10*! ! !