The Magical Pen

Sitting in my own thoughts, pen in one handy

My magical pen outlined with a fuzzy pink material

Just as fuzzy as cotton candy swirling round in a machine

There was something about this magical pen

I sit, staring at a blank paper, my mind bland

Never have I ever been asked, to express my journey of poetry

I flashback to days of elementary, the days of crayola crayons and making paper airplanes

And it was at that age………..Poetry arrived

There I was, a microscopic, young child who obtained a craving for writing

Winning the Young American Poetry Digest contest, my poem became published

My poem about Vampires, these blood-sucking devilish creatures

Became published, and sent mixtures of emotions swirling in my brain

Poems by Edgar Allan Poe and his beautiful “Annabel Lee”, showed a love that never dies

Poems with a little spook, about “The Raven”,  sent shivers down my spine

Poems by Shel Silverstein and his friendship with The Giving Tree, helped me comprehend the true meaning of friendship

Poems by Emily Dickinson journeyed me to new places

I soon developed a love for poetry and wrote my first faint line

It was then the heavens seemed to unfasten, displaying an image of mystery

This world of mystery became a likeness growing deep within me

You see, a great poet must maintain a certain maximum level of imaginative creativity

A person becomes satisfied expressing emotions never to be said aloud

Poetry revolves around memories

Poetry revolves around experiences

Poetry revolves around relationships, and this funny little thing called love

It connects us to life, nature, philosophies, and unknown worlds

There I was, my fuzzy pen in one hand, spreading its magic across a blank paper

Entering worlds of dragons, envisioning fairy tales with happy endings

There was something about this magical pen

Thinking of what the future holds and writing my own version of my future

Creating romances that hold true to a love that will never die

A new type of Romeo and Juliet, but with a twist

Illustrating every detail of my best friend…….. my bike

It was that first moment I picked up my magical pen and wrote that first faint line

Suddenly, the clouds awakened

And, Poetry became my sweet escape to my own vision of the world

A perfect world that would stick with me along the journey of growing up

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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