I am wary of the pen
a place where words reside,
bound and fettered
in regimented dictionary
monothelite, compressed.
As ink courses, then life begins,
my thoughts become words
given form, embryonic
ready for growth,
staring intently from the page
coercive, hypnotic shape-shifting,
mesmerizing entities.
I avert my eyes
but they evolve cynically, devious,
love to lust, melancholy to sorrow
pathos to satire to sarcasm
I correct and erase
yet still more come.
© Graham Sherwood 11/2015
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