Cedar Poetry

BY ANONYMOUS

Foreseen Plead

By not just fate, we went out to dance

Clothes of great status,

dressed finely all over.

Going over the others

With nothing standing between us.

We saw people of many kinds

But there were two that stood out

Two stealing the crown of the king.

Said as a fact.

Many others followed

but we didn’t believe it.

The crown was so blinding,

the people were talking and whining,

and the music was playing.

We just had to take it anew.

They thought the culprits were found.

Their punishment is nearing.

They plead and cry out lies.

When they never did a thing wrong.

Except us of course because

the true fault is in our veins,

and no one else’s.

We are the ones that think then act.

During the time of the feast

No one noticed the fake crown being put in place,

or the fake waiter being in charge

instead of the other,

Nor the hidden disguises hiding true intentions and many plans.

Those kids are gone now.

But we won’t be.

And we will never be gone.

Never truly.

It will never be never.

There can only be two things.

In which we exist,

and the kids do not.

The Flowing of Art

Drawings can be as fluid as running water.

Opinions can say otherwise.

Drawings that are seen as stories -

as a hash exiting wind

A drawing with a sense of a musical.

While dancing, papers fold to be like worlds.

While lines enact the movement of wandering souls

but with purpose.

Items that move like people but are as still as a gravestone embedded to the ground.

Corroding over time.

Details surprisingly stubborn and pressing.

While another views a work as grand

another may see art as more or less.

Works of talking art speaking gibberish.

A rug of scribbled sketches lay across a surface.

With a canvas showing white then filled with colors of many kinds.

A world with pride can briefly exist.

But is it more than what it seems?

What could be the reason for such a thing?

Mechanical Pencil

A strange pencil indeed.

But like the others, it has all but one objective.

Made with bits of rubber

but mostly plastic.

When the very top spins.

With a twist it reveals a familiar friend from time before,

an eraser peering the top like hair on a friend.

Able to erase mistakes for a while but this fades.

The eraser then disappears along with mistakes.

Then another is pushed down the top,

to replace the other.

Needing to fill a complete cylinder with a point of a cone,

thin, breakable lead

Writing with every click of a single button.

Right on the side.

As everything inside is ready for harsh use

and won’t break down for a while.

Until the thin led ceases to exist

or it gets lost

in more ways than one

like many other items have

that were like the mechanical pencil

in the past.