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Mark Stellinga Jun 2020
As often is the case…the “word” that beckoned came at dawn,
and, as the slave this made of me…I rose to heed its call.
The early morn intruder that aroused me from my sleep
was begging for appeasement from the room just down the hall.

Self rebuked and chastised for the many times I’d lain
and disregarded - recklessly - the little voice I’d heard,
I stumbled down the hallway, and I slid into my chair,
then cracked my knuckles wide awake, and pounded out the word.

The uninvited word…that found its way into my head.
The alphabetic prowler who’d intruded on my dream.
The tiny bunch of letters that would disrespect my sleep,
and join - without permission - my creative writing team.

Ordinary? Yes! But tiny universes dwell
in certain words and phrases we all use from day to day.
And…as a poet…I’m inclined to meld these little bits
to cast the clear and simple “desperate truths” I mean to say.

Every language has them. They are common…and routine.
They’re easy to pronounce…and understood by one and all.     
And I will always ply my trade in verse with “simple terms,”
to forge my gems of wisdom, in the room just down the hall.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve waked up during the night and been tortured by a particular word or phrase that simply begs to be woven into a new poem. I’m sure that many poets and lyricists have had this same experience. Far too often I’ve failed to get it jotted down, and been haunted for several days by not being able to rediscover that little “gem”.

— The End —