The sharpest ...
In that drawer of knives
Denies... sometimes...
Mid'st all said lies
The whetting stone's..
Necessity
Deftly... slicing...
On..till blunt
Time to rub the stone again
Get your senses straight
Don't wait
Necessity
The mother of invention..sez
I need another helper
Backup comes..
Size number five
Promising.. faux shelter
Necessity....
Turns real
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Author:
James Perrin (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 28th, 2026 03:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
Very clever and creative a fave
Thank you
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