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As I sit writing, my pencil sometimes lifts off the page.
Sometimes I think too much when writing.
When sentences rush to your head, all wanting to be written
When thoughts wage war in your mind, all wanting to be heard
It’s hard to accommodate for all
Words that desire to be tattooed on a page
And to be read by another’s lips
But none know the difficulty of pausing, having your pencil lift off the page because of a lack for words.
Lonerblues Feb 2
Paper smashed
Torn, no longer adored
Pencil cracked
At last, I’m not a writer anymore.
Star BG Jan 26
With colored pencils
becoming like extended digits,
I jumpstart day to coloring in journal.
Rainbow colors
match suns rays
birthing self to smile.
Colors run off
all over my shoes
thusly... my steps
becomes shaded
with dance inside moment
to celebrate life.
Inspired by picture of colored pencils on Mya's page. Thanks
joren's Jan 20
Write it down
10 times then
Erase it again
My mind is
Racing again
Emotions
raging again

My eraser is gone
Before I even
sharpen the pencil
another line I delete
And I sigh in defeat
I hate what I write
I can't stick to beat
I swear that I can
Rhyme mean
If only I could pick a
Rhyme sceme
This one is 100% meant to be rapped. It's about self doubt, questioning the quality of art I produce. I tend to write things and then up hating them later. This is to vent the frustration.
Thomas Bodoh Jan 19
Silver ink snaking, slithering, sparkling like
drops of liquid starshine, night-sky blood
against such a blank and frightening ocean!
A map with no places, latitude no longitude,
stacked on one another like skin, punctured flesh
throbbing under aching fingers, scratching, scratching --
Wood on paper, etching the past in words,
the same ***** quill I used to slit my soul
and slice open a hurting heart, once beating now bleeding
black and crimson pools of little light letters:
a lonely puddle, a mirror-pond, dabs of grey
in that white sea,
ivory sea,
silent sea,
hidden sea.
I ain't
a pencil.
You can't sharpen me
and expect me
to stay that way.
I might
break,
I might chip,
and I might never be the same
again.
caroline Dec 2018
I tried to write
So I picked up a pencil
But put nothing down
For it was missing a point
Izzy Aghahowa Nov 2018
blank pages & hard pencil marks in wrong places
all in an attempt to resurrect my soul
from the ditch i buried it in
with the hands of corners
that bleed within their thin marrow
i sit and wait for errors to be committed
to be committed to, for eternity

errors are blank pages, waiting to be filled
with tangerine kisses of hope
until the lead runs out
and the pencil breaks
like the millions of stitches i pry open
stitches on an already presumed dead line of text
Maria Etre Oct 2018
You
ask
edme
towrit
eabou
tyou
andm
ypenc
ilcoul
dnot
wait
tokiss
thep
aper
with
your
nam
e.
\/
|
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PENCIL
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