The Pen in Hand
The Pen in Hand by Clara Mitchell My pain is a blessing as I hold tight to my pen. The pen in hand Creates from my genius. The genius is like a genie. Rub the pen and paper Let the ink of genius soak deep into the paper. Soaking up its power and like the anointing, I move into another place. It is the secret place where the genius And poet's inkwells meet up with God. It is a paradise of revelation. A holy time and a time to see Visions from God and hold the new Ideas as tight as I hold my pen. My poetry is like a movie premiere. I must go through many takes before The director-- in this case, God-- Is ready to finish the process. A new art is now ready To attach to the womb Of the minds eager for new life From the hand of God's poets. God's poets, the genius Will extend the themes to time, And time will carry the lineage Into new generations to enjoy. Oh, the lifetime of poetry Is eternal when God is the producer. The