Intelligence

This pen I hold within my hands

it speaks to me in shrill demands

it cries for me to let it roam

travel wild, so far from home

yet i rarely grant it full free leave

perchance my thoughts it would decieve

or cause it'd find that could not stand

to be championed by my hand

and yet the pen contines its wails

crying out 'I will not fail'.

 

This hand I see with my own eye

it often will do naught but cry

constantly it howls of my abuses

wraught through hugs and many truces'

it never seems to be complacent

and yet I cannot seem to face it

with my demands of inner peace

Oh that vile, wicked beast!

It shall not rest till all is said

or so it vowed unto my head.

 

This eye that rests upon my face

refuses to stop this painful chase

of shapes and colors and pigments so

that I complain bring only woe

in it's defense it has been trained

to spot the actions we know named

and yet it finds more than planned!

in fact so many follies of man

that i must know of

and, therefor, be mindful of the pit below.

 

This mind that rests within my skull

is the only gateway unto my soul

a door I alone have access to

but through which so many pass its true

and as they travel to and fro

my worries and doubts can't help but grow

and give rise to my bodies rejections

of polite action and quaint inflections

but how may I shut this precious door

without being lost to life...and more?

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

I am considering re-writing....give me harsh criticism.

Reviews

[Phoenix]

I thought I reviewed this already....
Well, actually my poem 'Stupidity' was meant to be the review, because copying is a sincere form of flattery :)
Really, that was my weird way of showing how much I liked this...it's sooo in depth and that my favorite sort of poem! Only thing I can say is, there are a few rhyming bits that are a little rusty and some problems with clarity... Still, I LOVE IT!!