CALGARY A PENCIL LAND

 

Once in Calgary pencil land

Lived pencils and erasers

And shavings and sharpeners

As sharp as pointy lead heads

The ministers of Calgary

Of snow-capped mountain peaks

The Staedtlers Pencil Tips

And Pencil Nibs Apsara’s

Of the blue and bold beautiful century

Skies, Skyscrapers, and rivers

Lands and cities

Its rich diverse and cultural heritage of Panoramas

 

Once the happy pencil point

King Natraj and Queen Camelin

With his many princes Floras

And charming princesses Doms

And their Musgrave Pencil Tip slaves

Came to the conclusion they had to have

A pencil dance competition

Maybe even a pencil race

Of all ethnics and colours

Or all races and erasers

Sharpeners and sharpening

As quick-witted as black lead

As clever as crows at their pointy beaks

Bluebonnets and necks are so sweet

With their scrawly scribbly earthworms

In their scrawly scribbled nests

Of twigs and dead pointed leaves and

Black and white pencil bracken shavings

Of shaded trees upon straggling boughs

Shadows zig-zagged their crow perches

The sunshine arrows dispersed

 

The day was announced as a great big holiday

The skies were etched with shading black

Dense clouds gather upon

The bleak snow-capped mounts

As snow began to fall in clumps

Each is different and unique from everyone

The pencils raced on canvas sheets

Drawing snow-capped peaks to coal fledged bullet trains

And buses that ran on electricity

Up the flora and fauna of the blundering

The heights of such a magnanimous city

Even jungles and wolves

Abounded in nooks

With lions and camels just spreading

Their hooks and talons

Hoping to grasp the fancy dress competition

That the pens of lead took the lead

And pencils of buttering heads took heed

Seemed to convey to stick-figure masses

As they would begin to race riot ahead

On the papers

That lead points propelled an array

One intellectual pencil head

Wearing a scholar collar of a graduate degree

Was so small as it used up all its sketch

To participate because it possessed all wisdom

That every pencil tip yearned

To amass in the century of Calvary’s heritage

The little hermit of hermitage

Looked so small yet pompous

And Heady all the way started to wink at the rest

In the line of those who competed with him

There was one so tall

That almost touched the skies

Looked like he was never written at all

On paper Bligh’ a blighted knave

Maybe all the hearts of a Princess are red and rosy

On his sleeves he displayed

Even one so fat and heavy

Looked as if he’d fall like a leaning tower

Of Pizza already

He loved drawing pizzas and towers

Of ovens with bakers and Sous chefs of Calgary

Already was the muscular head pencil point

Ready for some action and delicious soufflés

He was so muscular and looked as

If he could charge with the horns of bulls

And batter like a ram

As he was tough from a China shop

And drew porcelains and art

Called Still Life

Right from vases to plates

Even spoons and forks

And was one champion Vincent of Arles

To commemorate his feats of surprises

In painting and sketching to this day

In the Museum of Lourdes

 

Further several pope heads and bishops

Gathered around to see the participants

And bade them good luck

On their journey

Of fancy dress and sketch

Beyond boundaries taking into limits

Architectural, drawing, photorealism

Cartoon, geometric, hatching, pointillism

Scribbling, sketching, stippling, line drawing

Grids, meshes, bars and stripes, Anamorphic

Doodling, caricature, and spectacular periscope

Called Perspectives

Even portraits, scumbling and abstracts like

Pablo Picasso inventions

Contour, scribbling, hatching, tattoo

And fashion illustrations

Race without cheating

As the bullets were shot from a pencil point

It broke unfortunately at its joints

Yet the fancy dress race continued

To squeal with laughter and applause

From the pulpits at the side

The pencils raced one by one

On their canvases mounted upon easels

With wit, humour, strength, and appeal

Some broke nibs and some of their points

And couldn’t proceed any further

Whilst the one who raced ahead

Was the muscular steed

As it was foretold in the Gypsy ball

Of fame, luck, and fortune

For fancy dress races to one and all

This muscular lead of lead

Was beyond breath and beyond mark

Get set and ready to go

By the bullet pen

His name Faber-Castell

And such were the parodies

Of the pencil land of Calgary

With snow-capped tips

Of mountain peaks

Snowflakes of different shapes

And sizes of etchings

They buffered as they fell

As light as featherweight champions

Atop Skies, Skyscrapers and rivers

Lands and cities

One could imagine

Beyond beliefs

All lived happily in Pencil land

Though withstanding bickering and animosities

Its pencil nibs and pencil tips

Flora and fauna

And the muscular steed

Took off again on his pen-tip voyages

To Kilimanjaro white mountain

Its volcanic snow-covered peaks of Tanzania, Africa

 

Instead of feathers and quills along the way

The Yankee of Doodling

Jotted down dashes, the snow and sleigh

His mark is like the Super Santa Claus

Of idioms, crosswords, and fair play

When he took off and disappeared on

One of his fated missions to conquer

His youngest son a tall strapping lad

Faber-Castell ghost copycat replaced

His shoes and silvery gauntlets

Riding a leaden black

Pointy pony of conundrums

And a black-bearded goatee so long

In lovely jigsaw puzzles

And joint the dots only

Pencils related to stoic students of Superior

Grace who wished to win like him

The Battle of a Fancy Dress Parade!

 

Brett my son

Do compete with Staedtlers

Even to display your pointers

With antennae’s

You’d turn into a dashing butterfly

Or an alien creature

From Mars

Or a stag with horns to display

Y’see drawing is a talent

That Graphic Artists

Revel on computers

With pencils that blend imagination

Purely from mouse pads

So never say a pencil is obsolete

As art is unique in whatever sphere

You fashion

Maybe even out of clay

That God-fashioned required an outline

For the first humans Adam and Eve

He sketched on paper

Believe it or not only with a help

Of an imaginary invisible Pencil

Of course, made of lead!

Even the colts, fellies and snake

That wrapped and coiled around

The old Apple Tree of Knowledge

For Truth and Wisdom

Seemed a curse or bane

To all the kingdom

To choose their pencil bit

Of loss or fame!

And make it a wonderful story

From wood and lead~

One-legged Soldier and Ballerina

Of Hans Christian Anderson

Beautiful Faery Tales

To remember till eternity

My good son Brett!

Till my next story, I pen

Rather quill I mean out of my hood

A pencil of lead