I step out of
the here & now
slip into the space
be-tween
second (&) second.
Time scowls: "Oh...
don't tell me I've lost
. . . .him again!"
Invisible to all
in my window seat.
Now, here
in Llanigon
upon the point
High Darren
I again that
little boy
letting the world go by
( hidden in a heartbeat )
lost in THE TEMPEST
of words
caught between the thresholds
of worlds upon worlds.
"Come to me...
. . .with a thought!"
the big black book calls
"Your thoughts...
. . .I cleave to!"
I whisper to its words.
I all at once
my own
Ariel & Prospero
set free from the knotted
pine of dyslexia
thanks to Mr. Shakespeare's
spell.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 5:19 AM UTC
I step out of
the here & now
slip into the space
be-tween
second (&) second.
Time scowls: "Oh...
don't tell me I've lost
. . . .him again!"
Invisible to all
in my window seat.
Now, here
in Llanigon
upon the point
High Darren
I again that
little boy
letting the world go by
( hidden in a heartbeat )
lost in THE TEMPEST
of words
caught between the thresholds
of worlds upon worlds.
"Come to me...
. . .with a thought!"
the big black book calls
"Your thoughts...
. . .I cleave to!"
I whisper to its words.
I all at once
my own
Ariel & Prospero
set free from the knotted
pine of dyslexia
thanks to Mr. Shakespeare's
spell.
This was written in Marva's writing room as the dawn came upon me and found my words all scribble and scrawl...here is the translation of that hopeless handwriting into something that can be said and hopefully worth saying.When one is told that this is the writing room then one has to...write! I was reading TO **** A MOCKING BIRD at the time and was thinking of using Atticus's line of "...a shadow of a beginning..." for a title but that got nicked by another poem. We were staying at High Darren so of course Mr. Keats' line suggested itself to me "...Silent, upon a peak in Darien..." Such is the fractal nature of writing poetry. And the book I was reading as a child in that window just happened to be TO **** A MOCKING BIRD...what goes around comes around.
