Song: Let the Drummer Kick by Citizen Cope
You know, sometimes I wish my friends didn't read this...I don't know if they even bother to check it anymore considering I haven't written in a long time. Maybe if then didn't I could write something real, stuff that I just don't feel comfortable writting knowing they may see it.
Hey, you want to read my ode on a pencil...I did really well on it in my writer's craft class. My teacher says he wished he had written it...
Ode On A Pencil
The need to write: overwhelming.
No mundane utensil will do.
The writer’s itch: disconcerting.
I am unable to correctly construe
The tremendous need for pencil lead.
That scent of understated wood
Is irresistible, to say the least.
While using ink, I am mislead,
My thoughts, drifting unlike they should.
Pen’s a confounding, undying beast.
Black ink, much too permanent,
Shackles feet of creativity,
While the use of a pencil can prevent
The restraining effects of gravity.
By means of a pencil, the mind soars.
It grasps at the unimagined realm
While ignoring guidelines and mistakes.
The tool itself has no great stores
Of unexplained power, but is the helm
Of artistic thought, the path it takes.
The pencil is a magic wand
Casting spells across the page,
Creating an inscrutable bond
Between the written and the engaged.
Through the lead, ribbons of cloud,
Storms of words, of rhymes and prose,
Come to life with a mellifluous dance, all
Fervent and joyful, eager and proud.
Raindrops of truth it does compose.
Oh! The glory of one small pencil.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment