The pencile

Once upon a time, there was a pencil.

It belonged to a little boy.

He drew picture in a big drawing book.

Ever day, the pencil grew shorter.

Every day, more pictures appeared on the book.

Until one day, there was no more pencil left and all the pages were full.

A beautiful picture book.

– The end


I wish I could draw or illustrate. I have the images in my head but I can’t bring them onto the paper. There is a little bit of that pencil in me, a bit of that book and the little boy too …Β 




5 thoughts on “The pencile

  1. Very nice poem. If you have images to draw (or paint or etc) begin making them. This is an eye-hand skill that can be practiced. And it’s fun. πŸ™‚

    1. You know your little alligator story inspired me to try this. I grew up with this belief that people are born with such intrinsic talents. Drawing, painting, music, sciences, etc. You either had it or don’t. It might be time to rewire my brain and get new set of beliefs.
      Your words and saying it is fun to draw, encourages me. Fun would be good πŸ™‚

      1. I wasn’t born to drawing. I practiced. Now that I haven’t been painting for years, I’ve lost my skills. I’m reduced to cartooning.

        I didn’t learn to play piano till I was in my thirties. Then, when I stopped playing, I forgot how.

        I was taught the sames lies… that talent was inborn. It’s not. It’s practice. Everyone has to begin.


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