Pencil
This is a poem about a pencil.
Allow me to describe its smooth long shape.
Red, mostly, with a black tip
separated by the classic white band.
I bought it today; yesterday it was in a shop
on the corner of King William St. and North Tce.
It was cut at a crisp right angle.
Now it's all sharpened up
and ready to be used for the first time.
20 odd centimetres of
unrealised potential.
Just think of the worlds it could create,
especially if I could draw. Imagine all
the people, characters and creatures just waiting
to be sketched down on blank paper.
Ponder if you will
the appointments that can be pencilled in
just in case there's a cancellation.
Let me wonder at the universe of words
waiting to be written
and then rubbed out again.
Such is the power of the pencil.
Poetry by Blue River
Read 683 times
Written on 2009-02-15 at 13:01
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