Best Erasers Poems
I thought it was punishment and a job so un-cool
To have to clean erasers in the back of the school
Until I found out that it was a job meant for two
And the other eraser clapper was gonna be you.
I watched you take an eraser in your left hand and your right
Then clap them together with all of your might
Through that cloud of chalk I saw you smiling so bright
And wanted to clean erasers for the rest of my life.
First we clapped by ourselves then we clapped with each other
Didn’t bother us that in a cloud of chalk we smothered
When the clapping was done and the erasers all clean
We stayed in the back of the school house and learned some other things.
Soft Pink Erasers
A person breathes into the world undressed pink
The lovely pink joy drinks from a nipple that’s pink
An alluring pleasing color that makes one wink
Pink is the color of the tears running on cheeks.
Pink is the color of girl who wins the heart of a man
And the pink is the color of the heart that is won
It is also the color of the newly sprung rose in June
Pink is the smell of the rose after the morning rain.
It is the color of cheeks of my daughter, wife and mom
It is also the color of the sunset of my old age balm.
I wish the life has its own soft pink erasers in my home
To remove all the mistakes and imperfections’ outcome.
Leaving no trace of the misdoings except pink remnants
Of tears on the cheeks to wipe out all the imprints.
+++++++
Form: Free Verse
Dr.Ram Mehta
Eighth Place Win
Contest: Any poem goes #25 by Linda
I have a friend so dear
though clever she's not clear
to life and these things
her phone constantly rings
but to answer it is she don't
when to be somewhere she won't
if so she's surely late
even for a date
she has no sense of time
that doesn't seem to chime
I always behold the watch
I'm dependable don't botch
I ask myself this though
is time just a show
so we will be swift chasers
one day we'll be time erasers
Amongst our sturdy bricks that we carry as shell,
Our Infinity bows to a death we sooth well,
Like a needle in a car-wrech with an idiot in the hay,
Toe to heal, we're treading, dancing in the grey.
Polarized, I say, mocks eternity of your name,
Love and hate, beside, apart but the same,
Future, past and a cut to the cheek...
A world’s eternal kiss, on the ass, of the meek!
There are no erasers allowed in eternity...
So wipe this illusion! For it’s never been just,
Defied by a beginning of an ending you'll trust?
So rub a-rub rub until your papers run red,
It's still the smiles of the living, which grow the roses, for the dead.
There are no erasers allowed in eternity...
No prayers to be answered or ghosts to spur aw,
Or to drown in blame under, those feet that you adore,
It’s contrast, my friend, that kept sorrow in-mind,
And this one book of blue, in black, I won’t bind!
There are no erasers allowed in eternity...
And I know this to be true,
So rub a-rub rub until your papers run red,
It's still the smiles of the living, which grow the roses, for the dead.
.
Empty souls enter the room
Rush to the waiting desks
Answer questions from rote
Spirit filling is left (out in street)
Erasers no longer in the room
Removed just like prayer____
(Most schools no longer have chalk boards and erasers but have electronic equipment)
Tapping my pencil on the desk.
What will I write about?
Chewing the eraser -
Now I have to stick to the subject!
I worry -
Is the lead too long?
Will it break?
What if I make a mistake?
I have to be cautious
and aware of each flub.
As the lead slacks
I must be ready to end.
But what if I have more
to tell?
I worry
about that too.
I’ll likely chew
another eraser
before
I'm through.
Oh no!
Like driftwood
I find myself doodling -
my subject’s brooding.
12/7/2021
Written within my history,
By pen, pencil, or quill,
The pages are no mystery
Some yet to be written still
From my many dawn breaks
Blank pages becoming too few
Fond memories and heartaches
Waiting to be written anew
My past, already written
But, then I met you
At first glance, I was smitten
Imagining futures new
Your smile is like an eraser
My sadness and pain removed
Your arms within, I feel safer
Embraced, nothing to be proved
We are nothing but pencils
In the hand of times and seasons,
Our past and present are stencils;
Rough or smooth… for whatever reasons.
For our past errors we seek erasers,
Their horrors may haunt our history,
In black and white… in pure or poor papers,
We often want to write a new and straight story.
Our erasers may be right attitude…repentance
Because our errors may have grieved our God,
Our erasers may be outright acceptance
Of the Holy One who shed his tears and blood.
Erasers
It’s not wonderful how
loud my erasers snore in
the sunlight!