Jar of Pencils
Like a quiver of missiles
How calm your forbearance
Awaiting the launch pad of mind
Determined to explore targets unknown
How colorful your surfaces
From red to yellow
Silver to white
Black-tipped payloads
Waiting anxious countdown
That forever pause as minds draw on inspiration
Arcing trajectories of reason
To land upon destinations in need
These carefully chosen instruments
Once born from assembly line
Number 2s of heavier intent
3s of tentative conviction
4s of fleeting thoughts
At times of such personal protection
Dissuading distractions
Sentries of sorts
Forever faithful
Desiring only to be used
Such history
These instruments so poised
The freshly sharpened so anxious
The older so melancholy
Remembering such humble beginnings
Now
From my desk
My paper
My gaze from window to horizon
Paper willing
Jar of pencils patiently waits
How seductive
This innocent persuasion
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a sense of definite relationship and affection,
this is a poem full of character and atmosphere
john
great write about an object even writers usually take for granted, kudos again.
Budd
I especially admire the personification of the old and the young!
Connie
Once born from assembly line
Number 2s of heavier intent
3s of tentative conviction
4s of fleeting thoughts"
Fan-tas-tic! What a write, Odin. This is one of those that I'm saying I wish I'd have written it. Naw. It wouldn't have been the same without the "Odin" treatment.
Thank you.