Stories

15 December 2011-

Stories

 

I was persuasive, but a quiet child,

goading others to talk while I listened.

I’d sit for hours while being beguiled

with oft-told stories that gleamed and glistened.

The commonplace, transformed in the telling

by my precocious imagination,

sparked tinder that blazed into rebelling

against the wizened ones’ consternation.

And yet, I met a need, someone to hear

their nostalgic recollections of old,

“everybody has something to say, dear”

at least that is what I was always told.

Stories aren’t judged by whether they are true,

what matters most is what they mean to you.

Sonnet X

03 December 2011

Sonnet X

 

The first table, with a view of the street,

patiently waiting for inspiration

to join me at the table’s empty seat,

I create space in my isolation.

I have often wondered if writing must

be a solitary pursuit for me.

Perhaps the process needs that kind of trust,

but poetry demands community.

I’ve tried to deny I need anyone

for validation, or even support,

and perhaps I do not, but connections

should be treasured, not seen as last resorts.

So I am learning to give and receive,

in the power of words, I still believe.