Oh-de-lally, Ode-a-lápiz

Pen mightier than sword, they say,

But humble cousin, they are wrong.

Thy wooden shaft delib'rately frayed,

But central core on point, and strong.

You get no love from poets, friend,

Their praise goes to your brother,

Those diamonds lovers like to send,

Bright missives like no other.

Message, you say? Bah, humbug, fie!

Diamonds may endure, for sure,

But all it means is that graphite

Sparkles under pressure!

Shall we send a proper letter

That drips with true emotion?

Or draw together images

That speak wordless devotion?

Shading, voiding, ombre tones,

Chiaroscuro hues?

Scribble down some pond'ring tomes

Or rhymes with rhythm, blues?

Though you run 'tween pointer, thumb,

And miscellaneous fingers,

Sentiment, mad thought - joyous, numb,

Passion on paper lingers.

Shall we speak in other tongues?

Will we describe a sunset?

Peruse the lust of lips and lungs,

Or analyze a subset?

The world is ours, will it suffice

To fit descriptions needed?

Confer upon me sage advice -

Your counsel will be heeded.

Come, dear trusty Number 2

Let's while away a day

Trav'ling mind-paths fresh and new

And wordy picture play.