Wednesday, December 03, 2008

A day in the life

A pencil is pinched in the grip of a hand.
His organs are squeezed until he feels
as if his heart is in his eraser
and his intestines are in his lead.
Each letter looped or straightened
stubs his toes, drags his heels;
each erased mistake balds his hair
in rough, uneven patches.
When the sentence is finished
he is dropped with a thud to the paper
where he nurses a tremendous headache.
The paper is none too pleased either:
he's a dull No. 2, heavy across her abdomen.

by Anjie Reynolds
August 2008


KUrlie said...

I'm no expert, but it's amazing. I'm going to need you to write more of THAT, thanks. It's really really good Anj. wowee.

Anonymous said...

And where in your brain did such a brilliant piece come up?
Had you been working on this when we were in town? Or, knowing you, it spontaneously came about and you fine-tuned it a bit. Right???
That poor pencil takes the brunt of punishment as 'it' writes down your thoughts. Better the pencil than you. Although I know how difficult it is at times for you to squeeze out your ideas and you so graphically expressed it through poetry. WOW, again.
Keep on keeping on.
This poetry piece is really clever. A must show to Barritt - you're an inspiration to her and all of us. This piece should be published - how do you make that happen?
I keep calling it 'that piece', 'that piece' etc. - I'll have to check if 'that piece' had a name. I'm afraid I'll lose my comment if I look back to your blog - will that happen?
All I've written is so spontaneously written that I'd hate it to have to recall and rewrite what I'd first written. Ah, the challenges of a blog commenter!

Natalie N said...

I've said it before, Anjie, but you are such a gifted writer. I get such a kick out of all of your stuff! :)