Pen
The pen, scuffed and scratched
The fingernails, chewed on and mismatched
The hand lowering, like a submarine descending to the deep
The black ink, wet and ready to weep
The paper, ruffled and ripped
The edges, torn and nicked
The cap, crushed and chewed
The table, stained and skewed
The lamp, humming and dim
The mug, steaming and full to the brim
The first contact, no ink and ire
The scribble, aggressive and dire
The strokes, neat and planned
The story, boring and bland
Marcus Graves- I am a junior at St. Peter High School. My favorite color is red and my favorite animal is a walrus. I write because I want to take the ideas and stories in my head and make them realities. I wrote this poem to capture the feeling and mood of being uninspired.