The little boy picked up a conch shell
and began to listen
A wondrous smile spread across his face
Oh, the joy of my mind's eye,
which sees the world exactly as I wish,
with colors as bright as the sky,
instead of as dark as a misguided wish.
Oh, the joy of my daydreams,
which take me to exotic worlds, near and far,
with the beauty of nature's streams
wrapping me in rapture far above the bar.
Oh, the joy of my music,
which sends me soaring to glorious heights,
where notes meld into chords melodic
and send chills more intense than frigid nights.
Do I lead, or do I follow?
Do I step out, or do I hold back?
Do I take control, or do I cave in?
I lead when I know the way.
I step out when I’m sure of the way.
I take control when no one else knows the way.
I follow when I do not know the way.
I hold back when I have concerns.
I cave in…never!
When the muses strike
and the words come
and the story begins
to write itself
When ideas congeal
like a salad of schemes
and the deeds of men
are etched in bold
Then fingers fly
and keyboards chatter
and printers whine
as pages spew forth
My mind is benign
My fingers throb
My eyes are bleary
But I don’t mind
An opus has been born.
Christmas Day is neigh upon us
Family, friends are drawing near
They will need our yuletide greetings
and a spirit of good cheer
Tree is up, yet unadorned, now
Out-of-town gifts still not mailed
Dinner menus not been planned, yet
nor have floors been swept and mopped
Bowls and platters for Christmas munchies
still lie bare upon the shelves
Cookies have not e’en been baked, yet
Apples, ‘nanas still not bought
Oh, how will I e’er get ready?
My poor guests won’t feel welcome
if I don’t vacate this chair, soon
and shift into overdrive
