Grandfathers Sharpen Abilities and are Cranky.


It is an awful bind
When pencils need a grind,
And one then has to find
A handle one can wind.

If point you cannot see,
That’s when it needs to be:
The lead must be set free
To a ‘Look sharp!’ degree.

And I can merely grunt
When pencils all get blunt
And I must bear the brunt
Of tapering each front.

I handle it quite well,
When I rotate a spell,
And take my turn to tell
Sharp points in box can dwell.

I’ll add, just off the cuff,
With no attempt to bluff:
Of sawdust, there’s enough
For stuffing stuff, and stuff.

© February 2019 Colonialist
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About colonialist

Active septic geranium who plays with words writing fantasy novels and professionally editing, with notes writing classical music, and with riding a mountain bike, horses and dinghies. Recently Indie Publishing has been added to this list.
This entry was posted in Africa, Colonialist, Grandchildren, Humorous rhyme, Personal Journal, Really Awful Rhyme, Wordplay and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

13 Responses to Grandfathers Sharpen Abilities and are Cranky.

  1. Debra says:

    Impressive–the poem as well as the sharpening skills!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Sue W says:

    Beats those sore index fingers from doing it all by hand.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Colline says:

    It is a thankless task and I’m sure you do a good job!
    Loved your poem today.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Love your poem, Col. Very to the point.

    Liked by 1 person

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