May 2024: A Literary Pilgrimage
Literary Pilgrimage Poem
I write best with the wind
I write in the morning sun with golden rays illuminating the vintage sheet.
Black ink scrawled onto the page moving with the rhythm of the daffodils waving in the morning air.
I write best with a cup of coffee
as I float somewhere between my dream and awake state.
I write best when I am not thinking too hard about it,
When my eyes narrow in on the dancing letters falling
Like waterfall drops on the empty canvas,
Splashing poetry and stories abound.
I write best when I’m half asleep,
Rowing down a conscious stream of books and pages.
The oar dips in as the paper edges scrape against the wooden paddle,
then transmits their melody into my hands.
I write In the grass with bumbling bees,
New to a burning fire encased in dawning glow.
I write in places here, there, and everywhere.
I write myself away from my chair,
out into the worlds beyond my own.
I write under Arizona skies next to Mexican seas,
And bottomless dirt voids buried inside mountain tops.
I write in a canopy by the ocean,
With sand dotting lines of poetry as the micro diamond flit through the air.
I write under waterfalls while rain drops rain over me,
cleansing my scalp blessing me with fresh ideas, thoughts and ‘aha’ ways to be.
I write best with the wind.
Gliding along a northern stream tip tapping my toes on puffy clouds.
Running fingertips through cotton candy castles,
Resting my back in the crooks of fluffy floating pillows.
I write best when I am on the run,
and my dripping sweat drops words onto my palms that electricity my senses.
I write when I move,
I write when I am still,
I write here there and everywhere,
While I sit here writing feverishly, in my comfy chair.
