The Quill

A pen and quill,
soaked with ink.
Would touch a page,
so blank and cruel.
A word is formed,
alone no more.
A story is born,
for all to adore.
A shining joust.
A beautiful Queen.
A flightless bird.
A child to wean
What’s in a word.
A story true.
What form will
it take, from
that inky fuel.

by Mark Boyle

Other poems of BOYLE (15)

Comments (7)

What a wonderful haiku Kumar.
this one is so uniquely true the whole of PH POETS MUST READ IT FACTUAL VIEWS SO WELL Compressed by you young man@24
if you post so infrequently u also will become a scent at the most read mine also now you tubes they r making
nicely penned //// This is memory, Tie of left life in dry-wet, speaks with soul timely
A wonderful haiku... Rated 10 Naila
See More