Open Poetry #39 |
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A box of pencils |
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Titia Geertman Member Ascendant
since 2001-05-07
Posts 5182Netherlands ![]() |
I was sitting at my desk and while sharpening my pencil my thoughts wandered off into fantasy land..... I see this world as a box of pencils Somehow shaped alike, but unlike all the same There's black and white, the greys and coloured They all have souls, but a different name Their souls are witty, with great intelligence But intensive use will trim them down Once in a while they need some sharpening Or in a stumped sea they will drown Not all souls turn out to consist of good material Again and again they keep breaking off Something's gone wrong when they were created Maybe a short circuit in the energy stream of love A few could be safed, but others were lost forever Too many interruptions resulting in faul play All they could come up with was a crooked line Which made so many deep scarves day after day Bad material should be thrown out and never be used But in the good one's heart there's always hope That's why we're still living with stumps of evil We crushed some real bad ones, with the rest we cope Like scattered leaves...my words will flow |
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© Copyright 2007 Titia Geertman - All Rights Reserved | |||
S Arthur Grey Senior Member
since 2001-03-19
Posts 719woven by a poet's loom |
A very interesting pencil world. Enjoyed. |
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