The Poet And The Pen Poem by Kondwani Simwaba

The Poet & The Pen
Dear pen,
I have known you for 23 years; yet deducting 22, it has left me with only one; for me to fathom that you have always been my fortress but still i remain shortsighted. (The irony) .
I can't begin to imagine the amount of patience you played, before coming to my aid. See! from this, I want to dedicate myself entirely to you; hoping I could at least attempt to replace a fraction, of your good-natured toleranceofmy delay; like back in the day, when i hadwritten those 4 tracks, and my words couldn't echo the fact; that i was moving in circles like a relay. Am sorry!
So for as long as the ink, escapes through your ball point, I promise to indite what the paper appreciates. Because of you, I will signalthese words, down to my audience and theirphone screens; just toget a message across, and not with a view to abbreviate. I will write, but won't focus on the one step required; to make my journey of a thousand miles, but focus more on my endowment;
that compiles my truths; some of which will make them glad, and some of course will be sad; making them shed tears forming watercourses like the Nile, some of which will be undetermined; like relationship goals of two Juveniles.
Clear as black and white stealthily, my hands will move on the paper like a knight in pursuit of Love, the L movement you could call chess; with you on board, I won't consider useful an airplane; to reach the skies, but your handwriting in Cursive that connects every metaphor will be enough to ascertain my landing despite the turbulence.
A world once dark; because I paid a blind eye, but now i see thefire; with just a simple glance at you, that sparkles aninspiration to write words with the meaning hidingin plain sight; decoded only by the recipient war-ridden in the same fight.
With the power you vested in me; id be honored to espouse you and the paper; soconjointly, you will convey peoples thoughtsfurther and aviate them higher than two birds with twin feathers to the skies of Pluto and back tothe present in one sentence.
This acquisition, I will take with both hands, like the blind receiving alms on the streets.
So dear pen, grant me my wish to put a wreath on the casket with the old me, because just like 9 months; you gave birth to the poet in me.
Yours faithfully,
Bley.
Dear Poet,
You called me from slumber; had it not been for the tango you had me dancing on that paper, I wouldn't have responded; you see! Many-a-time, souls like yours have resorted to me forvoice; but only a few have spoken that which would shake the darling buds of May like Shakespeare once did or that which captivates the hearts and makes the point in my ball bleed, words profound enough to be called an abyss; a chasm of rhapsody.
You see! I was once espoused to this paper, until death did us part when Shakespeare breathed his last; when Pablo Neruda indited the saddest poem, when Maya Angelou's heart phenomenally gave out; I was happily married until, Edgar Allan Poe's Raven shredded my spouse the paper; tell me! What good is it to dance the tango for souls that haven't quite mastered their steps?
You see! I have received many-a-promise; but what good is it if the writers are only filled with opinion and narcissism? I yield the power to build and destroy; the power of Trojan Horses in the battle of Troy, you see! I am the emancipation of slaves at Lincoln's signature, the instruction assigned to Moses at the mountain top; it doesn't matter what you know, because knowledge is pain but ignorance is bliss.
Dear poet! Will you speak for the multitudes? Will you curve your words to captivate even the blind? Will you write sonnets that can make me bleed
pain and scream hope into the reader's optometry?
#ThePoet&ThePen
#RhapsodyArts
#BleyKeyz
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