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A collaboration over too much coffee.
coffee and pen

17 August, 2004

A PENCIL YET

This is me
not of much use
unless held by somebody
of no use at all
and that much is true
until i am
held by you


and then, from time
to time once again
sharpened to point
in hurt and pain
of no use at all
and that much is true
until i am
sharpened by you.

always knowing
that what you see
is nothing at all
to what's in me
nothing at all
and that much is true
except for what is known by you

sometimes woman
sometimes child
sometimes tame
always wild
and most of all
and that is true
a pencil yet
held by you.

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2 Comments:

Blogger Lalit Vashishta said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

27 August, 2004 17:52  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Why?
Leaves one pretty speechless, but guess in poetry at least, it is a pleasure to know the pain of being a pencil that wants to be held by exactly one hand.

27 May, 2005 15:52  

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