29 posts
9/8/2005 2:57 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm



This pen of passion marks each word to its highest fashion.
Your poem just happens to be the one with mighty feel beyond all mature appeal.
The feel is of professing romance.
The one who falls short is lacking trance.
All it takes is one glance and words spill from my pen to the paper in a dance.
You are the air of my aura to breath.
You are the sanity that sets me free.
You are my emotions that leave from the ones my own grief.
You are the food and drink I receive.
You are the world from which I believe.
You are the heartbeat that lives to give.
I must give my everything.
You don’t know how much happiness you bring.
Write the blissful songs the birds sing.
Passions of simmering, scorched, fires now ignite with my pen in my grasp.
I hope with this pounding heart it will last.
When we are apart this false blasphemy will not fill.
This pen is love reaching out,
Dying to find what one another’s all about.
I see no other in these eyes,
But only the one love defies.
Take my hand and lead me to sacred land.
The world may thrust away emotions as long as we don’t stray.
This pen will add color to gray.
You are a professor of passion.
You enhance compassion.
This pen makes a master of romance out of man.
I write faster at first
Trying to quench a ravishing thirst.
Don’t burst my need.
Don’t make my pen bleed.
This poem cannot deny the feelings I feel.
This poem does not lie.
The emotions running though this writer’s pen won’t die.

Jeanette Hedglin
Age 18

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