You have come from neither mountains, nor flowers, nor rivers, nor oceans. But, carrying all these in you for me.
I first buzzed my glances. Then, I made you to be bloomed By opening your cylindrical petal, Where, I saw a face with golden-thorn in it. A flamboyant physique, coloured black. It was the day of my first night. You: My pen, gifted me a poem, through my delicate fingers, wrapped in erotic words until the final sweat of your ink!!!
I was dishonoured, diseased with solitude until you enter in me like a ship and tore the oceanic rust of my mind!
Now, I am yearning to see your ancestors. Who produced, Shakespeare and Milton to this world. And, wherever I go, I carry you, my ancestral beauty, in your heart. Every day and night, I get aroused by you and insert you inside my finger where, we then, play with poems!!!
Oh my celestial flower….! I still wonder, how could you contain my soul in your blue-ink goblet!!!
Tomorrow will be the season of true love. And, my age will depart through flute by flute from the mouth of nature. And, I fell like a leaf on the lap of your epitaph, under the tree made by poetry, where my eyes closed forever.
kilk 
This is a soothing read. A desire of any poet to glorify, his words, his imagination and his pen that creates magic. What is more unique in this poem is it’s Use of sensual underlinings. The pen and the poet, a rare couple that make love till they attain the perfect orgasm. The poet dauntingly begins from his nuptial night with his pen and carries forward his life till the scribblings On his epitaph. In all of it, the pen travels with him, nurtures his writing greed, shows him the ancestors. Each page of his life is inked by his pen. The pen becomes immortal, whereas the writer is mortal, this explains the idea of creativity and the creator itself.
The love for the pen makes the readers feel the real life love of a man. The pen, like any other girl pulls away the solitude in a man. The poem does have a multidimensional viewpoint and a rare other view of the poem can be the writer’s lady love too in the mind of the writer, altered to a personified pen. On the whole, it’s a fantastic ode, creating a happy tone in the beginning and ending with melancholy, which augments to the changing mood pattern of the poet, essential for a master creation..
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The Pen, referred here, is not the object but more metaphorical one that The power of words and the process of creation is linked with the ink of it. Like the trident for Poseidon to rule the ocean, the Golden-thorn for poet to refine and deform each and every notion that indeed “the best that has been thought and said” in the words of Arnold. How the pen becomes a fascinating companion to the author is evident universally and the imagery of the last couplet lively displayed.
Loved it đź‘Ź
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An introverted poet paying his homage to his pen that too addressing it straightly to the pen itself using the ode form. Inside the poem the metaphored-image of pen as flowers with golden thorn on it and a goblet that contain the poets soul is just mind blowing.
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