The birth of a poem

"Such a sweet turmoil"

My freshly sharpened pencil pleaded
'Please write a love poem once again'
I paused and judged my shallow heart's depth
And realised it's not if but when.

My fountain pen chimed in with expression,
'I never get blunt, and I flow like liquid gold'
Amused I was at the conflict on my desk
My indecision won, the pregnant poem, now on hold.

Jumbled words of love ricochetting off my scull
Gave a light bulb moment of first choice -
Not pencil, nor ink, not even my keyboard
She will hear my love, through the sound of my voice.

Reviews

[....................]

From conception through to birth, this piece is wonderfully penned; I can just imagine how wonderful the creation must have been :)

[~]

Wohooo I just experienced another kind of birth. The one that even man can do ;)

I love the personification of the pencil and the pen revealing the thoughts of the poet. Even they know the longing hidden inside the heart. That feeling of wanting to give his best for the beloved carries on and comes to a halt when triumphantly he realizes that for the birth to be successful - we must hear the "baby's" voice. So he decides to read it to her as his best love action.

Romantic and beautiful. :)

[SleeplessVolcano]

Loved your interpretation....:) It can even happen with twins and triplets too.....:)

[~]

:) yes indeed. It does happen. :)

[UnholyFate]

I love this. It speaks wonders truly

[SleeplessVolcano]

Thank you very much!.......what I forgot now, is that I actually need the pencil or pen BEFORE I can recite it.....LOL