A Pointless Poet Writes While the World Waits

I am the explosion of color before the setting sun disappears.

I am the final display of magnificence before twilight descends.

My color-splashed canvas is brief – a transitory existence.

One of a kind golden photos that are easily missed.

I am an ever changing portrait that continues to unfold –

beautiful and breathtaking, I am a sight to behold.

I am both a moment in time and every story ever told.

A twisted tapestry of light and elements refined.

Everything that we wish to be, exquisitely defined.

As the invisible brush and palette blend,

an awareness washes over me –

not one of melancholy, but guided urgency.

Before the brush and palette are put away a final time

I too will live vibrantly and outwardly –

living a life that is uniquely mine.

Stop. Wait a minute. Is this really what I should be doing

on a Friday, late afternoon?

Are these meandering lines a frivolous waste of fleeting time?

Surely, they are, and this pointless poet should just walk away –

to find a greater purpose, a greater plan for her day.

Many things left undone and many thoughts left unsaid

while my fingers and metaphoric mind continue their dance.

I should quiet the lyrical melody that keeps my Dell humming and

puts me in a temporary trance.

What is the point of blending words, rhythm, and rhyme?

After all, it’s music that only I can hear, a song that is only mine.

Instead of clicking the black keys and making words appear

I should slip on gloves and to my garden, start tending.

When I am done with that chore,

I should grab the mop and start scrubbing my floor.

If I start now, I will still have time to fold socks

before preparing dinner, with fresh veggies I must chop.

Those tasks, and more, like saving the world,

have a greater purpose, a greater plan for my day.

Much greater than the frivolous lines filling up this page.

Before I save the world,

I will grab those gloves, and that mop,

but first, just a few more lines I must type.

Because, I can’t stop the words from spilling out.

So, for now I will let the melody play and the words escape.

Words that have learned how to dance

over and around the shoulds and can’ts.

And that is how this pointless poet prefers it to be,

because long after our gardens die,

our floors need replacing,

and our socks need mending,

the world will still need saving.

So poets, let the quiet melodies continue,

the spilling of words.

Because frivolous lines, like a fleeting canvas,

will endure.

To listen to audio file, click here: https://myinspiredlife.org/2020/05/16/let-your-voice-be-heard-audio-poems/

Thank you for stopping by and reading my reflective poem with a playful twist. I hope that your week has had a few unexpected (and delightful) moments. Have an inspired weekend! Michele

If you are receiving my blog through email, thank you for taking the time to read my words and glance at my photos. For optimal viewing, consider going directly to the web @ https://myinspiredlife.org/blog-feed/ for each post.

50 Life Stories” update: I am writing my way through Story #41. I am so close to my goal! Maybe unrealistic, but I am pushing to finish Story 50 by Valentine’s Day. ❤️

Picture 1: View from a cabin at Lake Havasu State Park, Arizona Picture 2: Lake Havasu State Park, Arizona Picture 3: High Street Shopping Center, Phoenix, Arizona

Copyright © 2020 Michele Lee Sefton. All Rights Reserved.

14 thoughts on “A Pointless Poet Writes While the World Waits

  1. Thank you, Michelle, for this honest reflection. I feel this so often, and, unfortunately, work on the chores that lay before me rather than taking in the sumptuous stuff of real life. Keep writing and I’ll keep reading. The socks will still be there when you’ve said what needs to be said. Vicki

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you Vicki. 😊 I am glad your chores aren’t taking all of your time, because I love your active participation in life! I said what I needed to say, at least between last night and today. The socks are still waiting for me. 😏

      Like

  2. Pingback: Let Your Voice be Heard (audio poems) – My Inspired Life

  3. I love poems that are a deep, soulful meditation in why the writer behind the words writes. There is so much to be learned for the brief life that is ours and what we put down in ink to be remembered by, so I love the poignant story in this piece!
    Thank you for sharing. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I appreciate you taking the time to read an older poem. 😀 I remember writing that poem… those lines flowed out of me on a Friday afternoon. An afternoon that I should have been tending to other things, as the poem describes. 😉 I enjoy metawriting too. I like to believe a few of my words will live beyond my final breath. With my daughter, if no one else. 💕 Thank you, Jaya. Always a pleasure discussing writing with you.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. To see the beginning, you would need to step into a time machine and travel back to little me in sixth grade when the writing seed took root in me. Since that is not possible, I always appreciate you visiting here. 😊

        Liked by 1 person

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