My children are writers. I like to think I had something to do with starting them down that path…
Although I haven’t done anything with creative writing in ages, today my son sent me a little open verse he wrote, which inspired me to try some poetry. My style, however, requires strict rules, as you will see. I began with what I could see from my desk.
Leaves
I
Outside my window
Leaves filter the sunshine to
Shadow dance below.
II
Shiny world, upside-down,
Liquid mirrors briefly hang
From leaves after rain.
III
Blade-shaped green, toxic
Leaves, roots, flowers, stems and seeds,
Oleanders kill.
Captured
Out walking, as I used to do of yore,
A place or vignette often caught my eye,
The likes of which I’d never seen before,
And, lingering, I’d loose a wistful sigh.
One thought would always fill my fretful soul,
Why, Lord, can I not take this home with me?
For memory, however sweet, grows dull;
And painting proves my lack of artistry.
But then – What’s this?! A new passion was born
That all my former problems seemed to fix;
At last, the beauties I saw all around
Were captured in a snap with my R6!
No more will memories be ever lost,
As long as I, my RAM, do not exhaust!
