Sharpener

A personification poem from the perspective of a pencil sharpener I wrote for my LA class

I’ve been plugged in for a while now, 

Standing solemnly 

On a desk in an office 

Hardly anybody ever comes in, 

But when they do,

It’s to see me 

Every time, 

They bring a skinny piece of wood, 

And I know what to do 

I stay still, 

All while they approach me 

And insert the pencil into a hole

Where my mouth would be 

I grind and sharpen the stick down, 

Put away what I’ve shaved off, 

And the aftermath smells of fresh wood 

Then, they leave 

They simply walk out the door, 

Just as they came, 

Carrying the sharp wood,

And I’ve done my job

As I knew I always would

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

This poem flows well. I like the personnification of the pencil sharpener and the gentle rhyme. A unique perspective. Good work.

Chris

[Relic]

What would we do without good 'ol Mr Sharpener. We'd be splashing paint on rocks hoping someone would see what we wrote 1,000 years from now.

[John the Baptist]

I wonder if pencil sharpeners ever feel unappreciated. What could you do to help a depressed pencil sharpener?