A means, of course, it doesn’t spell success.
And of the pen itself the most important part,
The thing that gives it spirit, soul, and heart,
Is that metallic tip of it, its nib.
It is, let’s say, the writer’s thirteenth rib—
To make a nod, with tongue in cheek, to God
Who, if the text is right, instead of flawed,
Used Adam’s rib to write the script for Eve.
Or perhaps that rib meant to deceive.
The Hebrew might be read another way:
God might have nudged Adam a bit astray:
“From your own rib is where the woman sprang;
She’s merely yin and You are proudly yang,
(But as for Eve, she was right up My sleeve,
A wonder a mere man cannot conceive.)”
Now as for nibs, to get back to my subject,
The finest nib’s the worthiest of object,
And the writer lucky who gets as a gift
Two fine-nibbed pens to labor on his shrift.