My Pen Ran Away With Mmm-Yyy Stories Poem by Vera Sidhwa

My pen had a story already fixed in it.
It held my hand, instead of mine holding it.
I asked the pen why that was necessary.
Why it had to run-write with my own words.



But this pen kept writing my story,
At rocket speed on white paper,
The sublime story of my life,
That I myself wanted to write.



This pen accelerated instead, writing details of my life down.
Now I snatched this pen into my hand,
And yanked it off the paper.
I asked myself why this pen wrote faster than myself,
About myself.



Maybe being a pen it had a right,
To help my inspiration but
I proceeded to disciplined it.
Till he detached from and finally fell of the paper.



Since we couldn't agree on who wrote faster and better,
Our corroboration went a whole lot smoother.



For the first time ever, I gave my Muse
The responsibility to bring my pen and I to agreement.
The Muse was inspired more of such double collaboration.
So both pen and I wrote at the same speed,
On one story a piece.



And with this collaboration
A hundred stories did arise,
We both wrote about many things, something and nothing.



Each reader reading about themself,
My pen and I rejoiced.
Next time I would be writing faster than the pen.
Who wrote faster wouldn't matter.



The message regarding their life would be the same,
Written by whoever's names or name.
Because the pen and I were read by millions.
So the next story my pen and I will send to trillions,
Each of them will read a story about themselves.