Description: Sometimes life can be deceiving and the hate that one procreates can damage the soul and others, that's why I decide to do what I do best, draw and write poetry that's what the title refers to!
My Pencil -------------------------------------------
In a cataclysmic world
I found my deepest talent
Like a hidden pearl,
It picked up all my broken fragments
When they were suddenly hurled.
In a perfect society
I arose from sinful men
Like fallen pedals in variety,
I emerged from horned stems.
In my own mind
I fought endless battles
That seem to rewind,
Back to the times of Aristotle.
My hands crafted a similar
Outline of my life into a stencil
Not among many but singular,
With the firm idea to take on the world
With my own Pencil.
The rhyming was pretty jaunty (musical) and I enjoyed it. You seemed to fray at the end though. Still I like how you incorperated the title to push it all together.
I like also how you avoid using the "common" wording that most prefer. I'm suppose to head back to class in about ten minutes so I can't seem to give you the right amount of critique that you deserve. To make up for it I'll try and visit some other poems of yours.
It made me imagin that I was on a slide. You reach the top and escalate down to the final daunting conclusion.
i see a growing up in a tough neighborhood having to survive with fists...and then having an epiphany and realizing philosophy is better than pugilism...time to think with the mind rather than getting physical with the enemy...
time to fight the battle with pencil...the pencil is mightier than the sword...just as the pen is.
the transition in this poem is wonderful...finding oneself amidst chaos...
writing out of the turmoil...finding peace.
pencils break more easily than pens...so this pencil must be tough. and it is.