Rolling pens…Blank paper

Rolling pens...Blank paper

Not for fame


or riches

Expression of my true self

want to touch those who can relate

PEN always seemed so heavy

PAINT brush strokes always run outside the lines of my message

MUSIC note are instruments on my tone deaf ears

Math always seemed so final

rather not show my work, exposes my mistakes

Philosophical theories have my mind wandering and forgetting to come back

Been looking for a window to my soul for a 1/3 of a century

brown leather bound journal with promises of

secrecy and freedom

nothing to loose

hoping my own judgment  isn’t too mean

Pen is lighter, flows freely now

Words are the window

letting the sun bath my thoughts like never before

open my heart and my hand writes

raw, honest, deep word

This is sharing of me

feeling a connection to this paper

this moment

this certain scent or

suddenly silent sound

How did my soul survive with out the pen that now freely moves

i write these words today to say thank you to the


the HURT

THE Beating heart

my vulnerabilities and my insecurities and life

my pen is introspective, assertive and deep

it knows the me I have buried so deep

Find the art of your soul …

sing , paint , cook, or pay

That will be known as the day…..

and you will never be the same again

Scroll to Top