I want to write
Poetry so lovely
That you would come to my home
And attempt to take my wife
As you fell so in love
Just by reading my feelings –
I long to spin verse
So magnificent
That you quit your job
And run to the Cascade foothills
To start a new life
Among the fir trees
And the maple saplings
Listen to the whistling elk
Carry his long note across the valley –
If I had the repertoire
of words
the ability to conjure
and create images
forcing you to change your life
would I feel satisfied with my work
if you came to me in the streets
and told me tales
of growth and evolution
based on what I had written
could I stop…..
no.
I could not.
I am compelled to yarn
I am driven to create
And the written word
Is my canvas
Are my paints
Clay
Marble
I sculpt
And manipulate
Sounds and rhymes
Ideas and idiosyncrasies
Seeking to become an icon
Or an enigma
While still living my quiet life
On a small farm
Overlooking the foothills –