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Poetic Ink

How did you
start? It may
have started
with a pencil
or a pen; or
maybe it was
a fountain pen
that made the
words flow on
to the page.

Do you miss
that old yellow
newsprint poking
out of an
Underwood (the
typewriter, not
the singer, ya all)
or maybe the
sound of an
IBM Selectric?
(That was typing!)

Or did you start
writing later when
the screens were
green and DOS
wasn’t a misspelled
word and Byte was
a popular PC mag,
or Lotus 1-2-3 was

No matter.

Whether the poem
comes out of the
end of a pencil
or you form
pixels of poetic
ink on a screen,
never stop falling
in love again with
the gift God has
given you.

Write to
overflowing until
you leave part
of your heart on
the page for
someone else;
until your eyes
close for the very
last time.

Even if my poems
were never read,
there is so much
inside me that
needs to be said!

Categories: Poetry

Tagged as:


Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)

I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)

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