Life Of A Colored Pencil

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a poem I wrote about colored pencil shavings.

Submitted: November 25, 2013

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Submitted: November 25, 2013



A colored pencil gets sharpened.

All the old thoughts, and stories, and pictures

the pencil saw,

were detached from its being.

And the old thoughts - and lives -

law strewn across the table:

a sea of pencil memories.

As you sharpen more pencils,

more of their memories fall away

- like leaves from the trees,

like stories remembered, but never told -

leaving the pencil new again, and innocent,

protectes by its promise: to be used again.

The shavings on the table,

fallen casually about,

like a rainbow of every color.

Even some you could only begin to grasp,

in the deep, hidden corners

of your subconscious.

The blues bluer than the bottomless lake,

the reds redder than your older sister's date-night-only lipstick,

the yellows yellower than the sun glinting on white fur.

And each color

tells its own story

and together, the pastel-to-vibrant-ranging pencil shavings

join as one,

overlapped and blending to paint a wonderful, colorful picture.

Feeling insignificant,

you sit and stare.

How is it that lowly pencil shavings

ensnared several minutes of your life,

with theirs?

© Copyright 2018 Bev Smart. All rights reserved.

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