One boring Christmas morning, I opened up my gift.
With just one present left under the tree,
I once again grew solemn, and sad that we were poor.
Why were there never lovely gifts for me?
My gift was just a ruler, two pencils and two pens,
A small eraser and a pencil case.
My mom, who worked long hours, just wrapped me in her arms,
When she saw disappointment on my face.
âIâm sorry, Spud, Iâm sorry. I wish we could have more,
But things have been a little tight this year.â
She held my arms so gently, a twinkle in her eye,
Then leaned back in and whispered in my ear:
âI think that the eraser, while looking fairly plain,
Is quite a bit more special than you think.
I won it in a raffle. Itâs cutting-edge and smart.
It rubs out more than pencil lines and ink.â
I tested what Mum said then. I went in to my room.
It rubbed out pencil, pen, and even more.
I wandered over, pensive, and crouched down very low,
It rubbed the very carpet off the floor!
I moved up to the window. Outside there was some trash.
Some broken chairs and boxesâa whole load.
I rubbed it on the glass then, my eyes were opened wide.
Now no more junk was piled up on the road!
The next hour was a whirlwind of laughs and smiles and fun
As I found all the things I could erase.
The rubbishâgone! The dishes, the weeds all disappeared!
I cleared them all in an eraser craze!
I pondered and I planned, then. I found a secret place
To keep my new eraser safe and sound.
I didnât want to waste it. Iâd use it wisely now.
Iâd save it for Momâs stressed-out worried frown.
Iâd keep it for my sister, for when she scraped her knees,
Or when she felt upset or sick or sad.
I sidled up to Mum, then, and hugged her tight and warm.
âMom, thanks. This is the best thing that Iâve had.â
Image © Robbie Yates 2017
Super Eraser by Robbie Yates is a beautifully written poem. I know every reader is going to have something new to derive out of this poem. I have too! It has a fairytale feel, transporting me into the magical world of mother’s love.
I feel that this poem is about a mother who knows that her child can erase ‘errors’ of any kind, created by humankind, with a little imagination.
I feel the mother is trying to teach her child how to try and erase the errors so made, using the symbol of an everyday thing like the eraser. Any child could relate to that.
I also feel the eraser was a motivation for the child to use his/her imagination to change the world.
This poem reminds me of another one by Edna St. Vincent Millay called The Ballad of the Harp Weaver, which is also about magic and mother’s love. The poem is about mothers who don’t mind sacrificing to see their children safe and happy. It’s a poem that throws light on the hardships of poverty. It’s a sad poem, unlike Super Eraser.
Robbie Yates can be followed on his website Robbie Yates: Children’s Author and Writer of Ridiculous Poems
Featured image:Â Daria Shevtsova from Pexels
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