What can I say? I love to write, and so, write I do. Most times I have no clue what I’m going to write, and some days, like today, it takes a while before the juices begin to flow. It’s like molasses running uphill on the eleventh of February. Slow as all get out is one way to say it, and I’m sure you’re thinking of other ways to cleverly describe it.
I have been afforded the ability to learn how to touch type, and most days, hearing the keys pop under my fingertips is music to my ears. It means that my mind is busy, and a busy mind helps me work my way through some days that need a lot of work to get through.
I love to write, but the words don’t always come easy to me. With so many experiences over the course of my life, I wonder why. It’s funny how some days the things I could write about flood my mush melon until I bounce off the wall like a June bug off of a screen window on a hot summer’s night. Poor little guy. Someone must have given him the wrong map.
If you like to write, good on ya. If you don’t like to write, but love to read, good on you too. If you don’t like to do either, then I’m wondering why you are here.
Anyways, this is the 25th of April, and this is poem number 25 of this, the National Poetry Month. I thank you for stopping by, and hope your week is a happy one.
A poem by DP Lyons
I couldn’t find any words the other day.
I just sat here and stared at the screen.
I didn’t have, couldn’t find, hadn’t barely a notion what to write,
So I just sat and stared a little more.
With a lifetime of days leading up to that point,
I found myself surrounded by ironic fate.
With joys and perils and mesmerizing sunrises abound,
My mind was temporarily closed for maintenance.
And so I thought as I sat, and sat as I thought,
But the words weren’t saying a word.
My repertoire of catchy clichés had wandered off,
Into a lonely abyss of idle dreams.
How could so many memories leave me so very alone?
Why should I have to scour my experiences for one single, elusive tale?
With all of the visions of a thousand yesterdays chasing the dreams of a single tomorrow,
Had that particular day somehow driven them all away?
And so, I continued to sit as my mind paced with thought.
My fingers patiently poised their searching tips above the keys.
One single word was all I needed.
One small collection of letters was all that I craved.
One tiny start to something so amazingly simple.
My eyes darted to my left,
Then veered quickly to my right.
Breathing in deep, I closed my eyes and raised my hands,
Preparing to strike down with the precisioned fury of Frederic Chopin.
With eyes still closed, I lowered my head and pounded down quickly on one single key.
I didn’t care which key it was, for I was sure it would lead the way.
Wouldn’t you know it,
It was the space bar.