You ask, What is my Pen used for?A Poem by Stu. T.H.A truthful answer, I shall present you with, my darlings.
You asked, what is my Pen used for?
Besides writing rhymes and dripping lore, I use my Pen to pen my feelings, The feelings so great they'll bend your ceiling, I use my Pen to express my love, The love so great it's more precious than crystal doves, You asked, who do I use my Pen for? I use them to write for the poor, The illiterate, those who cannot read, Nor know how to write their names on sheets, I write for the people who are like them, Those who wear rags, whose hair is unkempt, Whose occupation is to herd cattle, Without a day sitting in a saddle, Those who have no say in their fate, Darling, they are my true dates, It is my obligation to write for them, To show them a world without mayhem, Through poetry and wonderful verse, To dress them up in dresses and skirts, To present to them the earthly miracles, Without the need for fancy oracles, Darling, you ask why I do not write for kings, I do, my love, for only those I will be seeing, Only those who are worthy of my praise, May I lend them my prose and its taste, Because at day's end, my darling reader, I am first and foremost a farmer and a herder, My heart does not belong to the Western Sea, But rather the whimsical tunes of Eastern melodies, So bear witness, if you are ready, The whimsical rhymes, of Eastern Beauties; As the bamboo roses hum their sweetest song, Some village boys bathe with just thongs, Some village girls play with marbles, And some scoundrels dig deep for marvels, I hear the wind whispering her dearest of words, "Darling", she said, "Seduce me with your verse", So, please do not grow jealous, but under that bamboo grove, I spoke to the Wind the most intimate of truths, "You have always been on my mind and by my side, Even on Moonless nights, Without a Star in sight, When all lanterns have burnt out their last essence, When drunken farmers have drunk to their nameless ends, You came by visiting, caressing my dreamless sleep, Calling me with names so kindly, killing my sorrow so deep, You, the Mistress of Verses and the Beauty of Rhymes, You lent a nameless vagrant as I, your precious time, I wish to ask why but I know you wouldn't answer, What is the reason for your love? I would know -- never, But right now, under this bamboo groove, with your tender touch, I think happiness is this, and nothing too much, Kings have their Queens while Merchants have their goods, I am a vagrant but I have no desire for loot, The only thing I want in my mortal days, Is the occasional indulgence in your embrace, You the Wind, is my Moon, but I cannot be your Sun, And I know you will be gone soon, leaving me stunned, But for you to visit this poor farmer boy today, It's enough for me to register this as my happiest day, But alas, the time of parting has come, Please be away, before your touch grows numb", And then she left me to my solemn thoughts, Under the bamboo groove no longer sings, and the weather so hot, With some boys bathing so loudly in the creeks nearby, And village lasses blushing while gazing at me, so shy; And perhaps I should've joined them, There was no need for thoughts so solemn, After all, despite my classy appearance now, I'm still that same kid who grew up herding cows, So, darling, do you understand now? I am unlike poets who chase the same clouds, What I want is a noon to spend flying kites, Feeling my Lover granting me Heights. - Thanh & Leon (both are me) [Stu. T.H. (December 6, 2023)]
© 2023 Stu. T.H.Author's Note
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StatsAuthorStu. T.H.AboutAccount administrators: Donny Wells, Dan Rastley. "We are an amateur poet group that writes short stories and poems which are typically strictly fictional in nature and roots. We make poems for ou.. more..Writing
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