Pen
I am long, sleek, and smooth.
I always do as I am told.
Her initials are carved into my skin.
Her dreams and thoughts are
My daily work. I do not change or misconstrue
The truth.
I bare it for my beholder and those who are chosen to see.
I myself am blind –
Movements are my only guide.
Friendship eludes me. My home changes periodically;
I bleed hard work into a new surface
Almost every day.

Her heavy heart helps me
Feel important –
Useful.
She needs me to help her feelings flow.

I am not immortal.
The more I work, the more I bleed.
Soon, I will run dry, leaving me
A vessel that is
Useless and empty.
So much have I labored –
The pressures of both hands and minds
Are always upon me.
Once I am finally drained, I will be abandoned,
The rush of fingertip touches
No more than just a memory.

Locket
I am easy to open, but I am not easily accessed.
Close to the heart I am kept
As a gesture of affection.
When shut, I am simply an ornament.
Hidden within me is the visage of another.
I am his guardian and protector.
My employer: his faithful wife.

My presence pleases her.
I am a constant companion
And friendly reminder of the one she holds close.

I am small, but what I protect is large.
Love is less than lost when it has me beside it.
My shield is not tarnished by the wounds of time,
And so my charge is kept alive.

My body is his armor.
My hollow is his home.
I am repaid for my service with a permanent
Resting place,
On the pathway from her heart to her mind.

Sweater
Wrapped in me, she walks alone:
The chill of the wind and the darkness of dusk as
Her only companions.
I am holy, but not in the way of the Lord.
Overuse and constant touches have left me this way.

I was once soft, new and vibrant;
Fresh from the wrappings I was laid into at birth.
She was once bold, beautiful and bright:
Ambitious and prepared for what lay ahead.
Now we are both old, worn and dull.

When she’s lonely and reminiscent,
I am never far away.
The memories of past embraces rapidly rush back,
And a slow smile slips onto her face.

My seams are stretched and
My fabric is torn.
I am no longer sturdy and warm.
Still I caress her creamy skin;
Soaking up the drops of ice that leave her cold,
And replacing them with the fire of my string-sealed soul.

Lipstick
Chosen for today, I am excited for my task.
My sisters are jealous, for
They are not allowed to play.
I am lifted, and a hint of skin strokes my face.
It is soft, and traces of me are left behind.

One layer, and then another.
I provide a cover –
A disguise.
My body paints a picture on an already striking canvas --
The final product only a mask to hide what need not be hidden.
My work is truly unnatural, but the ritual is an everyday occurrence.

The one who wields me needs me.
Reflections and pictures are not the same without my help.
The image isn’t at all

My life consists of two worlds:
Covered and uncovered.
The question forever remains the same:
Am I chosen today?

Clock
Many have passed by me, for I am paralyzed.
Permanent chains hold me in this place.
My heartbeat is audible throughout my prison, and
Anyone nearby is subject to its call.
For some it is a quick beat –
For others, it is the slowest pulse of all.
Over and over again, it’s always
Tick, tick, tick.

My schedule is strict, for I am the keeper of the sands --
Forced to count each piece as it falls.
I am a captive king.
A caged sovereign who himself is ruled by his constant rhythm of
Tick, tick, tick.

My façade is regarded by all who pass it.
They look to me for guidance and reassurance.
Keeping track of the subconscious schedule they’re on.
For life doesn’t last forever.
As long as I’m ticking, their eyes are sticking
Like glue.
Not all are pleased with what they see.

Glasses
We are a solitary whole.
An unbreakable pair,
One of us is never seen without the other.
We are framed by the same body, but hold different parts.
Our common purpose is only to serve the gaze we safeguard and enhance.

Without us, the stare of our client is not what it should be.
The world is clouded –
There is no clarity there.
We never leave our client’s face.
The indentations in his skin are evidence in the case.

All progress would be hindered by an ever-present stumble;
An uneasiness that could not be shaken so soon.
We are the safe keepers of this precious sight.

Book
I am complex, but I have a simple shape.
In a crowded place I seem no different than the rest.
Many hands have touched me, for I am meant to be shared.
What lies inside my skeletal exterior is more than just nonsense.

When closed, I am less than interesting.
But when opened,
That is when I am more than meets the eye.
My hidden secrets are laid out.
Anyone who chooses to can look upon them.
A switch is flipped when someone embraces me –
Their touches fall in all the same places
As the ones that came before them.
The stream of thoughts my core provides does nothing less than mystify
The one who holds me.

The eyes open wide,
Oh, what a surprise is hidden inside!
If I could, I would advertise:
“I take my holder on a journey each time!”
But this voyage is only in the mind.



Television
They sit and gawk at me every night.
Eight o’clock sharp, I am made useful.
I cannot see what I show, but
Only the reactions of those in front of me.

I am purely the messenger of entertainment and facts.
I am the reward for a hard day at work.
I have no control over what I display –
Pushed buttons make every decision.

I barely feel the touch of anything at all.
My own buttons are too far away from lazy hands
That are connected to lazy minds and lazy feet.
My time is spent watching them pass by.
I do not care whether they stay or go.

The times change –
Soon I am no longer the best or brightest.
I am too fat, wider than what they want.
The day is upon me quicker than I expected.

From my perch I can see the box.
It is thin and rectangular.
They open it with wide smiles carved onto their faces.
My replacement is lifted and the room rejoices.
They celebrate his birth –
The omen of my death.

It is my time.
They reach behind me and grab hold of my life source.
One pull and I am gone, with
No hesitations from those who had me for so long.

Candle
I am brand new, and
The stinging scent of cinnamon fills the air.
It is dark and cold.
My senses are numb,
And I am disoriented.

Something holds me.
It sets me down gently on a flat, wooden surface.
Where am I?
Suddenly, there is a flash of light.
A fiery ball of warmth heads straight towards me.
At first I am happy –
It was cold in here before –
But, as it rushes towards my face I am scared.
I know now that I will burn.

I am lit, and I realize that soon I will be much less than what I am.
Disfigured and dripping,
My tears run down my once smooth sides.
What will become of me?
If used too much, I will slowly disappear.

The thing that tortures me has a partner.
They engulf one another in the middle of the room.
I see that I am one of many.
We sit silently, slowly crying while those things sway in the center of the room.
One of them turns towards me.
“It’s beautiful. Everything here is beautiful.”

The fire burns –
It’s red-hot tendrils licking my face,
Leaving new scars to cover the old ones.
I am almost completely destroyed.

Kaleidescope
I am long and cylindrical.
I extend with the guide of hands.
Tilt me towards the light!
I will be more remarkable then.

The light stirs up my insides.
It bounces off them like a ball.
I shine.
The eyes of others look upon me with awe;
Their young faces are captivated by every turn.

Giggles surround me, and
The tinny little voices send shivers running all over my skin.
Their smiles reflect off my shiny surface.
The warmth of their excitement encircles me.

I am colorful and bright.
My technicolor soul bleeds over the black and white.
Turn me and see how the pictures change!
You won’t be disappointed, I promise.

Look around you!
What do you see?
I can change it!
Just move me slowly and
Turn me in circles.
I’ll make a new world in which you can dream.