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.
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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