The Magic Pen

He was nothing if not successful,

Grant Overman with his pen,

Everything that he seemed to write

Was well received back then,

The publishers fought for his stories,

And women swooned at his tales,

The only negative feeling then

Was coming from jealous males.

 

Was coming from jealous writers,

Who never quite got it right,

Their work returned from the publishers

To give it a ‘second sight.’

‘I don’t see how he can churn them out

So fast, with never a flaw,’

Said Ernest Benn to his leaky pen

While blotting his tale once more.

 

‘I think he’s in league with the devil,

He’s scribbled a pact in blood,

Or how could he twist my heartstrings so,

My tears come in a flood.’

His wife had sniffled through seven books

Of the hated Overman,

But never wailed at her husband’s tales,

He’d not yet published one.

 

‘I have to discover his secret,

There’s something we just don’t know,

If only you can get close to him

To see how his stories flow.

He needs a helper to clean his house,

Apply for the job, and then,

Rummage around what can be found

And watch him, using his pen.’

 

She used her charm at the interview

And was taken on to sweep,

To wash the dishes and scour the pans

To clean, three days a week,

While Grant would sit in his study there

And sit, bowed over his desk,

Then fall asleep in his padded chair

While he thought of tales burlesque.

 

Marie came back on the second day

And she said, ‘I think I know,

The thing he’s got and that you have not

That makes his stories flow.

He keeps it locked in a bureau drawer

Till he starts to write, and then,

It dances over the page, I swear,

He slept through chapter ten!’

 

‘You say the pen does the writing?

I see,’ said Ernest Benn,

His eyes aglow, ‘so at last we know,

He has a Magic Pen!

We need to get it away from him

So that I can find success,

The chances of getting caught are slim

If we do this with finesse.’

 

Marie left open the kitchen door

On an afternoon in June,

While Ernest, unobtrusively

Sneaked in, and hid in the gloom.

Though Grant was falling asleep, his hand

Had begun to race again,

So Ernest battered him from behind

While Marie took hold of the pen.

 

But Grant sat up, and he tried to rise,

He cried a hollow note,

Marie hung onto the pen, and then

She stabbed him in the throat,

And blood was suddenly everywhere

The desk, the floor, their shoes,

Said Ernest, ‘better get out of here

Before we make the News!’

 

After he’d washed and filled the pen

With a nice new brand of ink.

He held it over the paper, said

‘Do I even have to think?’

The pen began on its sudden scrawl

But was making quite a mess

By writing a line in blood, not ink,

‘I, Ernest Benn, confess!’

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Devanshu Rajput]

I hope, if I would have have been in possession of mine, I 'till now would have been on the moon! (But, I gave up the idea, after reading the second last para!)

I cannot remember the name of a nursery story, in which there was a hard-working cobbler. When he slept, small creatures ,like lilliputians,who came and completed his job.

I liked the story, very much. Thanks, for sharing poems or errrrr...... stories like this.

Devanshu

[A Soap Mess Stories]

Kreepy, but brilliantly written.

[R Smith]

that's just brilliant David, enjoyed it no end, have you got such a pen by the way, your writing seems never endingly prolific, this ending has your trademark twist and is beyond compare, well done :)

[MomzillaNC]

Be careful what you wish for…

[Marie]

My take is that Grant's success lay not in his pen but n his talent. After he died his vengeful ghost took over and forced the truth to be written.

However, this poem did make me long for a magic keyboard which would type just the right words to send to agent and publishers...

[Zahra]

Wow... the ending! A wonderful and chilling tale of jealousy and a quirky parody of gossips and emotions we see in real life. Had me thinking whethrr the pen wrote only the truth hence the secret of Grant's success.

[Ehra Khan]

A very amazing write sir really! For once I'd expected injustice would be done to Overman! but, u saved the day! You're writing is sinply marvellous! Greed definitely leads to destruction! well'penned'!:)

[David O Whalen (O Haol..]

David you remain the master of narrative poetry. I would have to just repeat a lot of superlatives that I've used before in reviewing your fine work, so I'll simply say "same ol', same ol' great David Padgett!!"

[Valentine]

Whooped laughing out loud at the ending of this one David. I never expected it to end so cleverly. Another fantastic write. Please keep them coming. Valentine

[ANTO]

Superb one David ! I half expected the missus to end up shacking up with the successful writer and leave Mr Benn (aww I always liked Mr Benn too) in a kind of 'be grateful for what you have - even if it doesnt seem much but I remembered at the end - the very end, I have to admit that DLP doesnt do Aesops fables lol - he does Aesops Nightmares lol

Magic Saturday night reading my friend - its like the old Hammer House of Horror film that used to be on of a Saturday night when we hid behind the sofa from Lon Chaney et al. Class !! xD