Analysis of A PEN

It may sound ordinary,
Pen...
But it’s poised, to pen a poem.
It keeps us busy through our bookish cage.
From its fountain of ink,
It makes the longest link.
It pricks and probe with its nifty nib.
Making marks on paper, and from the little pointed rand of band.

Flashing my ink.
It seems as a poet we have a poet’s pen, A talent that has always been.

Used for writing letters, writing words of hope and love.
A pen...it’s mightier than a sword,
And brighter than a soul.
Used to sketch the beauty trees and rain.
Used to avolc the words of love,
Rolling out words that keeps the sea silent with the arc of its ink.

Eternally mightier,
A word from a pen motivates the world.
Let the ink replace the blood, when the world bleeds in blood.
The pen ink is a writers blood.

Never let our pens run dry,
For, it is where our thoughts flow,
It is where our hearts speaks,
Speaks all the wonderful words.
Words that only our hearts can utter...

Proud to write in white paper with a writing pen, the ink pen...
Let a pen be our bed to sleep on.
May our ball point never run dry...
And till infinity a pen remains a fighter...