28 Writing Pen
01 A Wooden Ship 02 A Wooden Bowl 03 A Wooden Cross 04 A Wooden Heart
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A wooden ship I saw at Lelystaat
A replica of those they used to make
For sea journeying in the course of trade
Which required vessels that could travel fast
On such ships many sought fame that would last
Through great wealth acquired, and all for the sake
Of changing fortunes and patterns of fate
Thus unshackling all constraints of the past
Riding on the wave of the sea currents
Strengthened by the force of the mighty winds
Sailors and traders reached the spice country Writing Pen
After months at sea, feeling unpleasant Sonnet 083
With commerce in mind, in business so keen Petrarca
To dominate all they were now ready AD 2005
02 A Wooden Bowl
A wooden bowl, a utensil so simple
A daily tool all Buddhist monks carry
To collect food, outside the great temple
From believers who will provide kindly
A sacred object for those on the way
To great enlightenment and it wisdom
For which the Buddha has long a go paid
When he forsook his father’s great kingdom
This begging bowl and holy yellow robe
As well as prayers and meditation
Writing Pen Remind the whole world of its gentle hope
Sonnet 089 That lies beyond its passionate action
Anglicia A bowl with shape and empty space inside
AD 2005 Speaks of nothingness and its divine light
An old wooden cross I saw in my mind
When I was sitting alone in my room
Feeling unsettled I looked hard to find
The meaning behind this symbol of doom
Many thought this was a sacred heir-loom
They carried around and treasured dearly
Believing this sign and one empty tomb
Promised a great hope for humanity
For once a good man of true sanctity
Was hung cruelly upon such a cross
To suffer the pain and die hopelessly Writing Pen
A poor victim, a rather simple loss Sonnet 090
And yet willingly with love he embraced Spenseria
His death to present his own divine case AD 2005
04 A Wooden Heart
An old wooden heart shall not ever feel
The wonders of life and all their beauty
Being plainly sick its dry cavity
Can not absorb joy and its power to heal
Hardened to the core by life’s ugly deals
It has no room for human sympathy
Devoid of mercy or true charity
It is nonetheless hungry to be filled
If only true love would give it a touch
And then move on to penetrate inside
Writing Pen To start a struggle to empty the heart
Sonnet 091 Of all rottenness and its sinful sludge
Petrarca Perhaps there is hope that one inner light
AD 2005 May bring renewal as evil departs