I serve my pen to feed my flesh and my soul extract honey from the alphabets
I come alive and true, when I write
I have no mirror, no dressing room, no camera,
I know no shame
I wait for no apologies
I skip commas, apostrophes, and I sure ignore exclamation marks
I love me in that place of no rules
my heart an ocean filled with word recipes
And me, wow! the master chef cooking a-b-c-d
as the aroma of words whistling in my kitchen of thoughts
my pen is chopping, peeling, sautéing, basting, frying,
every loss, every disappointment, every fear, every love
and serve as an ink to my pain.
© 2009 Emu Getachew
imaginative and eloquent...your pen must be unique! good 'aromatic' work Emu...10 for you
So true. I can feel your love for written words. I absolutely adored this poem :)
‘…my heart an ocean filled with word recipes…’ Fantastic poem! Well conceived and worded So offbeat yet so common. Ten++ Ms. Nivedita UK Please read my Poems: Why Hack My She [In Elite 500] Enigmatic Navel or others. niv
Ink for my pain is excellent. Such striking metaphorical images. a 10
What a wonderful extended metaphor, which builds to an excellent climax in the final lines. I'm sure many can appreciate your sentiment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
shows great imagination really good 10