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