They say that when learning repetition is key
But that isn't so, were you to ask me
Saying it over and over and over again
May be the worst method of any in ten
So scrap that idea and the secret I'll tell
If you have the ingredient you'll do very well
It starts with a question; a what or a why
An inquisitive mind with an ear or an eye
The foundation of learning as you’ll hopefully see
Is motivation that comes from curiosity
For if you aren't interested enough to inquire
No long term information will you ever acquire
You may in the short term pass a Q and A quiz
in a time frame that counts though, you'll be no wiz
So make yourself curious and you'll have begun
In your learning journey; this step number one
I submit most humbly
That I alone just may be
The only one who should obtain
This most unique .Com domain
But if your hope is to get rich
I guess I ought to save my pitch
As it turns out the minimum
Is, in the short term, quite a sum
perhaps some day I'll make you smile
If you wait a little while
The following was the response.
Given the chance to do it over again
The first question I’d ask would be, “Where to begin?”
Of all the years that I’ve lived in the past
Where would I start to recast?
Sent back as a child that knew what I know
Which part of my childhood would I choose to go?
Were I sent back to again be a teen
I could write anew on a slate that was clean
Had I my twenties to do one more time
No doubt, I believe, that the world would be mine
If I began at my lowest of lows
Are there things I would change? I’m not sure. Who knows?
All that has happened from way back then
has brought me the journey to where I am
If not here, then where would I be?
There isn’t much comfort in what I can’t see
Alas, I’ll collect all the years that remain
And assemble a tomorrow whether sunshine or rain
Lost at sea and turned about
I sailed the waters’ shadowy rout
I stepped in stride with a dangerous bout
A-sailing I went alone
No longer welcomed by the harbor
Lacked a shilling for a barber
Twas a self anointed martyr
I’d stammer, stutter, and groan
Awashed on the shores of an Island. Stranded!
I did what survival strongly demanded
All was lost and I was abandoned
No doubt in a twilight zone
The smell of hope waft in the breeze
The break of day would come with ease
I thought I held the treasure keys
Until the mirage was gone
Back to square one yet without a square
Smack dab in the middle of another nowhere
Heavy in apathy but light in fear
I sung with a sour tone
A sprout of hope sprung from the ground
A spread of color went all around
A spark of love was finally found
New life was now my own
Lost at sea, I was no more
At last I found my final shore
With one I’d keep and so adore
My heart had found it’s home
What deep and piercing thunder from the dark and foggy sky!
coming not from mother nature, but from those who fly.
When they pass by you will know; the ground begins to shake.
If you’re sleeping or you’re dreaming, you will surely wake.
I look to see from whence I hear this ripping thunderous roll
but with no light the night conceals in blackness charred like coal.
Mankind flexes almost unlimited godlike creativity and might
restlessly researching constantly working even throughout the night
Stretching domination with determination to the east and further west
With the furry of a race we launch ourselves to space. What endless limits can we test?
Whatever dreams and aspirations of yesterday’s fanticy
Will all but certain, come tomorrow, be our destiny
The poet was inspired by an unseen Airforce jet one night while visiting a military base.
Oh cruel morning filling my room with blatant light
Robbing me of carefree comfort felt within the noiseless night
Must I leave my bed and shed my quiet cozy fold?
And leave my undercover warmth for immersing cold?
Oh cuel and bitter morning why that singing ringing alarm?
Do you think that morning brink has any alluring charm?
The beckoning and reckoning fails to entice.
It’s not enough for me to slough my covers for the air of ice.
Oh cruel yet harmless morning now subtley sneaking in.
Time ticks away my final moments. A new day shall begin.
I must arise I realize and resist a sleeping bing,
and enter front and center with the creeping sunup fringe.
Oh cruel and fateful morning there’s no way you can be beat.
So long my sleeping song I wrong you as I stand upon my feet.
Shall I forget, regret, or recall this stress and strife?
Shall I miss my kiss of bliss or whistle on with life?
Here’s a poem for when you’re in the zone
Just one line to write
And then I’m done
I’ll call it a night
But that’s no fun
There’s more to say
There’s more to type
It’s close to day
But my mind is ripe
Its obsession I’m sure
I know that’s true
But it sounds so pure
And looks so new
It’s all laid out
up in my head
Like a preplanned route
My hand is lead
To write at will
Without much thought
A little thrill
That must be sought
New ways to say
Just what I think
A small price to pay
For priceless ink
I type the close
And hope to send
A figment rose
With a lovely end
I’ve emptied my head
With much cascade
And when all is said
Fine art is made