This is the very first poem that I wrote. I had to write a poem in my Senoir year about an inanimate object and there happened to be a dictonary right in front of me, and I realized that I hadn't been using the dictionary so much anymore. I used to use it for school alot but as I came to my later teens I stopped using it, and so I wrote this poem from the dictionary's point of view. What does the dictionary feel about not being used so much, and so thats how I came up with this poem; enjoy!
The Dictionary
Who am I? I am no more,
Will my life ever again be filled?
In this dark corner it seems my fate is sealed,
On this shelf I sit, and there I’ll be forevermore.
Once I was looked upon as wise,
People would see inside of me,
The answers that were meant to be,
But now, here I stay with great demise.
For the dust and the lint upon me sit,
It seems to me I am now beat,
Someday near I may be used as flint,
To make a great fire with whom I will heat.
Who am I? For I am no more,
No one looks to me for wise words,
For it seems I have been cut up by swords,
Here I sit, not so great anymore.
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