I Used To Write

This is what prompted me to again pick up pen and pad

I used to write

 

I used to write

Spun sonnets about days long gone by

Where my ancestors roamed the plains in all their purple regality

 

I paid homage to the birds of the heavens

How as they flew over head

Their wings became a blanket of multicolored wonderment

No man down to this day has yet to duplicate

 

Yeah, I used to write

Stories of young lovers

Destined to become old soul mates

How they would play whispered games

By the setting of the sun

Learning all the intricacies of each others hidden blossoms

By moonlight on the river Nile

 

I used to write of the greenery

How the trees of the Serengeti

Stood so proud where the creator planted them

How there tawny branches would reach outstretched

As if beckoning to one another across the fields

Perhaps the tree in the distance is a relative,

One that from its seed transcended the wind

Becoming deeply rooted in mother earth

 

Somehow, one day, the words left me,
I had no will to write

It seemed all that drove me to this passion

Was all but taken away

I sought for words to ease a pain inside me

Yet they never came

No doctor had a cure

No herbal balm could heal this pain

It being so deep

It took all concentration to breathe

 

Then one day a bird of color flew over head

It left in its wake a rainbow

A sign as ancient as time itself

Signaling the rebirth of word

A new beginning of sorts

 

As the rainbow descended over me

I felt a rush in my nether regions

I thought a subsiding of pain would ensue

But not just yet

 

While struggling to catch my breath

Bright images came to mind

It was that of the Great Queens of my homeland

Encouraging me with sonnets in my native tongue

 

It was of young lovers who disengaged

Sated from their rapture

Looking towards me with lust filled eyes

Prompting me to write of their tryst by moon light

 

It was the trees of the Serengeti

Asking me as if I were their creator

To shower them with lyric

As if I somehow could unlock life giving waters

 

It was the beat of the drum

That somehow got trapped in my heart

And was pounding at first ever so gently

But all at once became a roar a lion would adhere to

 

With that, I yielded,

Giving up all that was bottled inside of me

I writhed in pain and the realization

That I no longer had choice, I was now chosen

To carry forth verse

 

I was to be the mother of voice

 

And so…….

 

I began to write

 

 

Reviews

[Lydia]

This is a truly beautiful piece. I absolutely loved it, but watch your there/their/they're choices. I remember seeing a mistake or two. Other than that, this is great.

[Anastasia Starlena]

This is the most amazing poem I have ever read in my life. It touched me.. I am in complete awe and must say I am speechless at it's beauty. Wow

[Nautili]

very cool feel to this piece, very inspiring. The imagery is beautiful and i love the term,"mother of voice."