Learning Curve

The progression of a boomer, techno-less poet.

Lead-gray letters

on lined paper,

crooked, made with effort, wanting

expression, to write miracle words,

tongue-stuck-out frustration

emphasizes desperate need.

 

Inky blue words advance from gray,

stand straighter, do not

struggle so to tame

stray thoughts or channel

amusement-park emotions,

but still work to make

words tell truth,

leave only pale ghosts

on shining fields of white.

 

Black, hunted words retreat

from point and poke,

clack and clatter

of single letters once again.

Connected sentences

laugh at novice great white hunters, searching,

cursing.

 

Light words chase

dancing cursor, tantalized by promised

speed-of-light

transmission. Paper and muscles

no longer barriers to wandering intellect,

 

yet,

 

under duress,

fingers and heart long

for tooth-marked, yellow-painted wood,

wide blue lines.

Reviews

[JohnL]

This is a very sensitive portrayal of progress through the wondrous benison of writing. I saw my childhood and development of the written word (though I have yet to reach the final stage!) revealed before me with remarkable economy of well chosen words and with good poetic form. Afine and perceptive poem. I see your poem via a request to be your friend. In truth, I prefer to see and review some of your work (of which this review is a start) and read one or two reviews from you of my work first so that we are aware of the benefits or otherwise. I must say that with me, your poetry is off to a good start - I can't find anything to suggest to improve this one. I really enjoyed it are we not blessed to have the ability to paint with words as well as brushes?
John