The
creative reservoir
might be
dime thin
or an ocean
deep,
the source
of the need
to produce
or write
Poetry
flows easily
from
inspiration
rather than
the struggle
of even
great poets
writing
just to fill a page
Fortunate
are those
with muses
filling
their minds
with images
that must
be sung or
written
Every day,
I read obituaries
of
extraordinary people
Why am I so
ordinary?
I would
scale Mount Everest too,
but I can’t
afford the trip
I would win
a Medal of Honor,
but I
couldn’t endure
the
discomfort of war
I know most
high achievers
fall back
into ordinary lives
like
everyone else,
but oh,
what memories of triumph
When life
becomes stale
put in a
toaster
Heat it
carefully
Spread
strawberry jam
Pour cup of
coffee
Consume
with the toast
Life
becomes tasty
The life
rafts of indifference
and taking
for granted
carried
them through
a desert of
disconnection
She went on
a voyage
of
discovery
that ended
with her finding
that he was
a superior man
Her
transformation
into an
enticing woman,
her smile,
her joie de vivre
brought him
back to her
