When my pencil dances
And writes out its suppressed feelings for you;
This pencil makes love to you
Through poetic liberation;

When my pencil dances
Into your arms,
It disowns its virtue of patience;
It disowns its virtue of control;
When it is with you, it builds nations
Of love expressions on white and vacant lines,
Like white and vacant covers
Suddenly filled with the blood of lovers.
This pencil writes about you endlessly;
And it dances with you leglessly
Because it dances with a flying heart.

When my pencil dances to the melody of your guitars,
It marches with you into forgotten graves,
To invite good souls back into life,
So I swim like a mermaid into the waves,
Dance death away till death gives in to life;
And those viewers wasting their days parading cars,
And those humans wasting their nights parading wars,
Do they envy our unity at a poetic sight?
Will they give the gold up for the Sunlight?

When my pencil dances,
It brings to memory the legends
Who made music from falling rain
And their guitars "cried" when they "died"
And desert storms soon formed
From their repressed tears;
And snow storms then stormed
From their expressed tears;

When my pencil dances,
It sings poetic anthems to glorify the skies' ears;
It sings spiritual rhythms to pacify the skies' tears;
For those are the Divine's Representation,
The gifts that too many humans forgot to glorify!
And I must modestly admit the climax of the story,
And I must modestly admit to the heavenly sky,
That my pencil would have never dared to take a chance
And to meticulously dance had I not been inspired by your glory!


"The Lesson from this poem is that it takes love, passion and inspiration to make a writer's pencil truly dance in expression...."