top of page

The Old Pencil Speaks - July 6, 2026

  • Gary Hunter
  • Jul 6
  • 1 min read

too much greasy finger pinching has

polished my yellow-painted wood

so much I’m slippery to hold

 

but if you must use me

press firmly, harder than normal

so I may write legibly

like I did in my youth

 

my lead, once coal soft

is now as hard as obsidian

so I’m sluggish on paper, needing

frequent rests with meager results

 

I really prefer to stay at home

in his cup of writing instruments

 

that’s where I’m comfortable,

watching the world channeled

through those fancy gel pens

and slick mechanical pencils

 

gosh, never thought I’d see the day,

when pencils weren’t made of wood

and never needed sharpening

 
 
 

Recent Posts

See All
Flirting With Souls - Aug. 25, 2026

I admit, I love knocking on the door of a person’s soul, watching it open and being welcomed in the warmth behind my speech, my interesting play of words, gets me invited in quite often though I’v

 
 
 
Menus - Aug. 24, 2026

constantly, the choices French fries or garden salad soda or water fruit or cheesecake and then there’s yoga or stay in bed fast walk or stroll pay bills or computer scroll pull weeds or jump in the

 
 
 
What About a Pilgrimage? Aug, 23, 2026

like a god, the Colorado River has blessed us with water for a very long time perhaps a summer pilgrimage is in order fly to Denver, rent a car, climb high into the mountains until you reach a bla

 
 
 

Comments


  • facebook

©2020 by Poetry Rock. Proudly created with Wix.com

bottom of page