One day,
I found myself
pen in hand,
paper by my bedside,
yet another poem.

But...this was not the plan
I am not a poet

I don't know what I am
but I am not a poet.

Or am I?

Does it matter?

What matters?
The words.

More than labels,
the words matter.

Do they stir your soul?
Wake up your imagination?
Make you come alive?

my pen seems to take over
and in the end
there are words on the pages.

Words that I hope
 get read
 wakes you up

Maybe I am the pen.
The pen of a skilled writer.

All I need do is
 to be available
 to be open
 to refill so I never run out of ink
So that I can write words

Words that heal
Words that lift

Maybe I am a poet
Maybe I am not

But I could be a pen
that is willing to be used
willing to allow words to flow through

to speak to your heart 
to awaken your soul
to light up your imagination

So that you and I together,
we can make the world a brighter place.

~ Deola
Tagged ,

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.