Fountain Pen

Itching for an excuse
to put this pen to paper
not fingers to keys
avoiding the blue light
the reason we can’t sleep.
No, I didn’t refill the pen
merely adjusted the converter
so the last few drops
make it to the tip
of this metal tongue.

~*~

I purchased two Lamy Safari fountain pens this past week — one for upstairs and one for downstairs, since I have a tendency to write all over the house. It was in an effort to try to be more green; to not have to throw away plastic pens.

Both have converters so I can refill the pens. I’ve been finding every chance I can to write with them. Maybe it’s the thrill of a new thing or maybe it’s love.

And, yes, the first draft of this poem was written with my mint Lamy in Deep Sea (teal) ink, and the second draft was written with my charcoal black Lamy in blue ink.

Thank you for reading.

~*~

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The Weather Light

It’s hard to discern
if the snow is coming
from the roof or the sky
in the overcast night
so I go upstairs
to observe from
our library’s window
the weather light
illuminate icy precipitation.

~*~

There is a light post alongside the alley behind our house. Whenever we want to know if it’s raining or snowing, we go upstairs to our library (a dormer room where our books reside) and look out to the light to see if it illuminates the precipitation.

And that’s how we check the weather at night.

Thank you for reading.

~*~

Perennial

Trimming stems of mint
invasive perennial
taking over yards,
kitchen crockery,
ceiling hooks and drying racks
suspended by twine.
Take part in the tea
read the future in their leaves.
Interpreted dreams.

~*~

This poem, a trio of Haikus, was inspired by the February 11th, 2022 #vss365 prompt “perennial”.

It is also posted on my Twitter, @sm_saves.

Thank you for reading.

~*~

Write Everyday

If I were to write everyday
everyday a tidbit of wordplay
to play my pen across the page
page after page like a word mage,
magician pulling rabbits
from my habit
the habit of writing it
down instead of forgetting,
then maybe I’ll stop beating
myself beating heart
for all these blank pages.

~*~

Nine days into the New Year. . .and this resolution of sorts is working out. It helps that I purchased a five year memory book from a local bookstore. The Mister has been helpful in supplying memories for each day, as long as I’m the one who writes them.

There have been a few poems in between. Not a poem everyday but a couple lines here and there, and for that I’m am thankful.

And thankful for you, the reader.

~*~

Stitches Like Witches

Stitches like witches
crafting spells by full moon’s light
bones and stones afoot.
Like storytellers
with fountain pens spitting ink
on tea stained pages
as they turn into
little birds, scattering words
to midnight ashes.

~*~

Final poem of OctPoWriMo. Thank you to those who visited and read throughout the month.