The Beginning and the End…

(originally written May 25, 2011)

First introductions,

we were expected to create a collaboration

of poetic verse and rhyme

and this was back when poetry meant nothing

more than 3 of 4 pages in a grammar book

and I never knew what pentameter, imagery, or metaphors stood for


in reality, our first introduction was literal

cause I never heard or read of his perfection…

the life span of millennia…

the art form that connected ancients to a pen ….

the same connection he was about to give to me..

and word spoken in rhythmic delivery…

was a mystery to my 12 years of living…


he was first introduced to me and

we didn’t even speak the same language…

and you would think that our movements would be awkward

that sign language and gestures would guide

our clumsy attempts at communication

you’d think that me at 12 and he of advanced years

would share nothing in common but the air we breathed…

and the small space of 3 ft by 2 ft that we shared…


but clumsy is not the right adjective, and the only gestures

was the movement of my pen over the paper

I was the paint, and he was the master…

                           (Day by day I take the pain)

me the thread and he the hand, we were weaving a poetic tapestry

                          (of evermore a sorrow’s drain)

into the first 10 lines, of verse ever composed

by this mind and these hands…

                          (i think of things long forgotten)

I found freedom inside the words

no longer held captive inside my hesitation to speak this message.

                         (i think of summer and winter and fall)

drawn and etched onto the page…


and years of frustration were stripped away…

                      (and hope perhaps today you might call father)


i found freedom in the lines slipping through the bars of my


of words left unsaid. You see I feared he might be dead in a war

I didn’t understand…

                     (but day by day this dream dies down

                     and my hopeful smile turns to a frown… )

but now written I held the key

to undoing my spiritual captivity.

                     (day by day i take the pain)

First intro and I was quite nervous…


til I laid my eyes on him and found

my soul mate within

heard His whisper and it was clear

                         (of evermore a sorrow’s drain)

Poetry is more than just my greatest friend…

It is the voice of the beginning and the end…


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