Prompt: Take an object that you think describes you. Write a poem on it. The poem should be able to convey how and why you think it describes yourself. And by object: it can be anything, anything at all.
Inked
Some say, the pen is mighty,
That it slays the mightiest swords,
Some say, the pen is weak,
That It takes the easier roads.
I say the pen is a doorway,
to learn and to explain,
With words of wisdom inked,
to explore unknown terrain.
That is how I see,
The purpose of my life to be,
to explore, to explain,
to extend infinitely
A pen without a mind,
is as useless as dirt,
A pen shaped with thoughts,
is fire in wisdom’s hearth.
As I seek to take the knowledge,
and it burns my fire within,
A pen I find when myself I see,
in a mirror of comparison
The same pen that rouses,
A storm in faraway lands,
Me, my words do burn the same,
as my reach ever expands
With the knowledge that we both gain
imagination we both explore,
And in turn, portray the same,
In a gilded bejeweled lore.
As the source of revolution,
We stir up ideas inside,
with a fire of our very own,
with wisdom on our side.
If I were a thing in this world,
If an object were to be me
I’d just need a fine Ink pot,
and a fountain of wisdom I’d be.
Arnab Mukherjee 