It keeps me busy in my bookish cage
Gliding and sliding on the open page
While writing rhymes and playing with words
My wanton biro enjoys a lot
It's ink wells adorned my table
Imagine a quill pen and white feather if you are able
I looked in charge of the situation
As dipped the quill into the ink and wrote words of inspiration
It run slow on my hand a biro
As i write a bio
It rest so quiet but not dump
Between my finger and my thumb
My biro is mightier than the sword
But is rather used by the coward
To turn the truth, blue into red false
To build up some very hideous walls
A world of words from its fluent tongue
The magic of music, the endless song
My blue biro is the bearer of my joy and pain
When i write, its blue ink hold my dream in rain
As life flows straight from its fountain of ink
This makes its the longest link
It tiny tooth unleash words of its eloquent tip
From its pricks, neck and probe with its nifty nib
My biro is a glowing fire
That stroke its deep and takes it higher
A silent warrior with the thunderous word
Forever mightier than the sword
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Poets take great joy in their works. Write on brother.