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My Pen Is My Guardian

Probably the second poem I wrote, where I questioned how I got my ideas for self-written literature and considered the (although physically impossible) state that it was my pen that wrote words, and that I was just ‘enabling’ it to write by pressing the nib to the piece of paper sitting before me.

I recently revisited this poem, after three long years, and further edited it to my approval. Editing your own work is the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do, because there will be that one line or that one word which you really liked, but it doesn’t really fit in with the rest of your literary text.

Vist Chris Kenworthy's Profile

My Pen Is My Guardian

My Pen is my Guardian,
The sea is my sky,
The waves and the water,
My Pen Writes…

Through twisting turns and intriguing plots,
Nervous beginnings and unexpected endings,
The ink does swirl and the pen does twirl,
My Pen Writes on and on…

My character drives through a dark mist,
What happens that night is written in ink,
A stream of blue blood on a white page.
Death? Murder? My Pen Writes on…

He was a man with a heart who risked everything
For his one true love. But the love was
Unrequited, and on his way home to his
Beautiful girlfriend, gets hit by a bus and

Catapults off a cliff. For my Pen keeps on writing;
It cannot stop. It is out of control, murdering
Innocent people. It is a pen with a vengeance.
A pen with an imagination, within its own existence.

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