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: 26
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange, Friendship
Offline)
Comments3
Very clever and creative a fave
Thank you
Most welcome
James, there’s a real edge to this that keeps moving…like something being sharpened over and over. The repetition of necessity gives it weight, like it’s not just a theme but a force pushing everything forward. It taps into that cycle of losing clarity and finding it again. Strong piece, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thank you very much
Well done, very creative
Thank you
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