My Pen by KimB

My Pen

With my pen I do write,
Although, oblivous to the night,
Of poetry so mild and sweet,
Who's words do rhyme and do meet,
In occasional sentences,
Of remose and repentences.

My pen goes on without a thought
Of what to write and what to not.
Should I write of gallant souls
Who fight and struggle in Death's throws,
Or of a soul who's lost in vain,
Or of a love who's found the same?

Ever onward goes my pen,
Pausing every now and then.
And then with faster speed ascends,
To hurry and put down this night,
Whatever words it thinks to write.

Ever faster my pen goes
Into every space it flows,
The ink and words without space or time,
Who's only ends are words that rhyme.

KimB circa 1969