Posted on: 25 May 2021
My pencil has a mind of it’s own.
My hand doesn’t have to do anything.
The pencil does it all: clever pencil.
It wrote that letter on its own: naughty pencil.
It seems quite flamboyant tonight: show off pencil.
Perhaps it’s because I sharpened it: pointy pencil.
I am more expressive than a pen,
And less bossy and interfering than a keyboard.
Thick and thin lines, sharp points,
Soft feeling on the paper, flowing,
As if I am walking over the page, covering it with words
That can be removed with a rubber, but never completely.
There’s always an imprint.
I think my pencil is getting a bit carried away now.
I’m going to send it to bed.
It’s not keen but it’s going anyway.
My pencil served me well today.
We’re both allowed to rest after midnight.
Night, night Pencil.
Some peoples’ pencils draw great pictures. Mine write nonsense.
You can lead a horse to water but a pencil must be lead!
There is nothing in my pencil at the moment — empty pencil.
And the best thing about writing in pencil — you can rub it out and start all over again…