Ode to My Fountain Pen

When my pen lost its mind I did not bury it, Excalibur, in its rock grave. 
I did not weep, or toss a flower into the hole of absence, though it was 
     more intimate to me than the women I loved.
Divorced from its spirit, it became the organ donation 
of a queen to a field laborer, a sword turned into a spade,
as I continued to poem in an inkless ether.
 
O old jewel, who now signs checks and wastes my balance, 
     and pays the rent to the proverbial Jew!
 
I remember you, and I, your black blood on my hands, 
the launching into paper, the precipice and the free fall
     into verse,
as I stare now at this faux page of snow,  
looking deep into a chasm that out leaps me. 
 
This keyboard is only a whore to serve a purpose. 
You are the only flesh of my flesh, one helpmate to the unbegotten,
    once plough to my fallow ground. 

 

5 comments

  1. Hi Mark

    A thoroughly enjoyable poem with fine crafted wit and personification. I really like the way you characterize the classic character and elegance of the “fountain pen”. When it’s time passed, so did an era of intimacy between writer and utensil or should I say companion. The language in this is very skillfully chosen and underscores this fine piece with an eloquent “tongue & cheek” genre. My favorite are these –

    remember you, and I, your black blood on my hands,

    the launching into paper, the precipice and the free fall

    into verse,

    as I stare now at this faux page of snow,

    looking deep into a chasm that out leaps me.

    This keyboard is only a whore to serve a purpose.

    You are the only flesh of my flesh, one helpmate to the unbegotten,

    once plough to my fallow ground.

    I will listen to the audio later which I know will be finely read and a delight1

    Thanks for sharing this,
    Wendy

    Liked by 1 person

  2. MSS

    “This keyboard is only a whore to serve a purpose.” In comparison to the exalted pen, the original flesh, there is, perhaps, no contest.

    Yet, says the I Ching, “A concubine’s position is lowly, but because she has a son she comes to be honoured.”

    We take what we can … what we must.

    And your purpose has been served. One may, then, with dignity honour the whore.

    MAH

    Like

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