The Poetry Marathon

Every morning – CLACK! – CLACK! – CLACK!

The sound of cell doors being unlocked.

Quick! Get up! Hurry to the microwave,

heat water for coffee, my morning elixir.

Careful, do not spill it on me.

Ah! I’m first to the activity room.

I get the seat by the window,

Light on my left to illuminate

My stipple art as I begin my day.

Dot, dot, dot . . . so many dots.

First, the outlines which resolve into shapes,

Pause to check perspective, then more dots.

All day, dots, dots, dots, until they

Begin to build tones and after hours

I see forms on the page.

Forms of people, trees, clouds, all giving

Expression, giving life in a black and white world.

My, did I just stipple a metaphor of

My daily life. If so, I am at peace with my art.

CLACK! CLACK! ClACK! So ends another day.

Not so often now do I journey on

my Cosmic Glide. In my youth,

in my mind’s eye, the vistas were limitless.

Infinite panorama’s of wonders beyond

imagination. Truth is always

stranger than fiction.  But now, my engine

of imagination has seen many miles,

been so many places I have

to travel far afield before I can turn on

my Cosmic Glide engine.

But if I am still, in a quiet space,

I can still hear the rumble

of its once mighty roar.

I’ll assume, yeah, yeah, I know, but I’ll still assume that I follow the directions correctly. If not, some kind soul may (?) rescue me. So this is my brief statement on the blog. Happy Trails!