I am staring down the barrels of
the red pencil sharpener
its holes
big as drainpipes
fat as full moons
flared like the nostrils
of horses;
they are
deep wells
dark tunnels
O-shaped mouths hungry
for pencils
The red pencil sharpener sharpens
my imagination
John Malone 
I so love your poems! so unique and so beautiful!
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thank you. I fell in love with the red pencil sharpener as soon as I saw it. I raced off into solitude and wrote it soon afterwards
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Love this!
I always get my pencils stuck in sharpeners. The tip breaks off and I have to take a pen to get it out…
A constant battle. 🙂 Thanks for sharing! I always enjoy reading your work!
-Beth
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thanks Beth; I like writing poems about objects, little odes if you like to things that are rarely celebrated elsewhere
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Love that ending😊
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Yes. The ending was critical. I couldn’t get away with a limp ending, the rest of the poem being so strong 🙂
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Wow. Wonderful perception. Almost a metonymic poem.
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thanks. I must confess I’m not sure what a metonymic poem is. Will have to look it up and may then accept the implicit challenge: actually write one and, if good enough, post it
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