a pencil eyes the moonlight
wishing its lead could glow like that~
dreaming of drawing silver arcs
longing for brightness
Simplicity
by Frank Daub
I showed a wooden pencil to a friend.
He tried to give attention
going directly to the end
of the pointed lead.
“You have to sharpen that,” he said,
analyzing quickly my waste of time.
He preferred drop-down menus
on miniscule screens
while waiting in a line.
I sit at my desk with a piece of dry wood,
Trying to write things that are misunderstood.
My brain is a constellation of static and glue,
Like a hamster in a tuxedo trying to chew.
I dip my sharp lead into rivers of ink,
But the paper is judging the way that I think.
Is it a metaphor, or just a bad smell?
My rhyme scheme is trapped in a deep, lonely well.
Oh, rhythm, you flee like a cat in a hat,
Leaving my stuck in a rhyme that is flat.
I procrastinate wildly by counting the dust,
My typewriter gears have all turned into rust.
the golden yellow of a number two pencil shakes her head at me
She has a reddish eraser on her end, her point is dull and black
The arrow beneath her point is flesh colored, my skin tone
She has been chewed on; but it was not me; my teeth are no longer sharp
I remember taking her out of my dog’s mouth yesterday.
Surely all those dog germs are dried now.
I pick her up and begin to write, since this is what I do.
I keep a pencil in my pocket,
Here is why,
It's my electric socket,
Without it I'll cry.
When I get an idea,
I write it down,
A bird, My freind Thea,
Even about a clown.
I make it into a poem,
When i'm free,
Which is not often,
I am very busy.
To write a poem,
Here's what you need,
A pen and imagination,
Another poem you'll plead
Wowza I'm all fired up
My coffee was a double macchiato espresso
My pencil best keep up
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
My soles press soft
into sidewalks. I leave
a trail of graphite steps
They etch out my first sentence—
a diary in crayon, a novel in margins
Time sharpens the graphite steps
I stroll through my city growing younger
White tiles paved over the dirt path I loved
but look: beneath the cracks, faintly traced,
ghosts of my graphite steps
Size 5 kneels where a bluebell once bloomed
Size 16 lingers at the turn when love grew bitter
Size 20 steps slow, the graphite darkens—
a crossroad still warm with roads unchosen
I walk my city, the mirages flicker
between streetlights and soft recollections
the wind stirs a hushed whisper...
my graphite steps lift into the air
plans incised on plain paper
careful calligraphy of a plane
sailing high above the clouds
shrouded in anticipation
veiled in smudges and tears
slowly running out of ink
resolute fears fuel the fire
earthquakes resurface nebulous horizons
and I have not the foggiest idea
uncertainty shapes a landscape
full of thunder and lightening
a sinkhole for rainbows
handing over completely
to what to whom to when
a seeming distraction
at the foot of the rainbow
gold mingles with cold
and heaven freezes over
Pencil jumped out of my right hand and gave my left fingers a tiny tap
Three new ideas came to me in a quick snap; I needed pencil back.
Pencil refused to take direction, gave my cheek a tiny slap.
It was my fault for personalizing him and naming him Mack.
Mack wrote for an hour and ten minutes, never taking a break.
I noted it was all about himself, and most of it was fake.
Serves me right for giving him free rein.
Having an arrogant pencil is a bit of a pain.
I have been pushed and pulled,
Across an empty expanse,
Growing smaller and smaller with time.
Used until nothing was left for me to do.
I watched as they used others,
breathing life within their blood.
That once blank place.
That once ivory place.
That once is no more.
Now I see,
How I was used,
What they created with me,
to start,
to sketch,
to create.
Pencil Sharpener
My pencil sharpener (my pencil shavings like to
get high on the
bubble of
air clogging up
the run of liquid in
the pipes) was designed to
absorb my screams of
extreme anger. Also designed to
absorb my
strained whispers.
Pencil me in
I won't disappoint
I am here
Right here for you
Pencil me in see what becomes
I won't steer you away
I won't erase any part of you
Pencil me in
The picture could be grand
We can see how we grow
Pencil Me in
I am not afraid of you
I am not scared of the past
Pencil me in
It would be a date to remember
A mark in time
An exclamation point on life
Pencil me in my world is way to small
And yours is way to full
Pencil me in the lines won't always be straight
But they will have direction
Pencil me in the paper is so empty
I am ready to draw
Ready to be It all
Pencil me in for I promise to be what has never been
A commitment for change for trust for devotion
Pencil me in and you will never have to take a notes
For I will be all the notation you need
Pencil me in to your crazy life
Because we both need the calm
Pencil me in to a part of you.
Basically I am lead, whose am I
Energized particles of energy
And if I embrace a tree
I'm engagement In energy
Spiraling from Heaven toward Earth
Like a lightning volt placed in the vessel
Define gravity group growth
Like a grappling hook suspended over the edge of a building engagement rains
I am light encased in the trees
Yet this vessel I not be
Graphite I am black comely I weave
Living energy I am
Who am I write what am I
A ? pencil wording words written messages
U C I wrote words I speak
I write my mouth speaks
My hand writes words, sentences
I am ? pencil "
11/17/24
Written words by James Edward Lee (c)2024
Beautiful arts
Of pencil using
Is cool and pleasing
To the eyes, mesmerising
Every lines defines
Artist loving hand
Every stroke touches
My very inner core
As a person who loves art
My appreciation is never ending
How those lid creates beauty
I only surmise how lovely
Those hands God has given
Such talent to me is extraordinary.
If your a little shy but you’d like to tell someone what’s in your heart…
A pencil and a piece of paper…is a pretty good place to start.
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