Alexander Coppedge

Rookie - 81 Points (June 25,1954 / Warrenton, North Carolina)

I Do - Poem by Alexander Coppedge

I take a wand and tap it releasing glitters, doing a dance with pen when I am hard at my writing, sparkles creates a magic through written words.

Conveyances of adventures true and fictional, set steps sketched to promote a reaction touching in its appeals: my in self dark felt nightmares.

Ideals bathed in insights of remembrance, given realities I treasure with views conceived, ripened crops to yield bountiful: my ultimate vision I hold.

Times displayed in tender emotions and harsh feelings, come to know about myself thoughts: of moments said events gathered through years.

My assembling of trials and errors detailed inside efforts, current and past holding woes, hoped for fortunes: books, articles, poems and knickknacks.

I in life a planted tree captured to these holdings, all my wanted for could be, but them not served in their delights: I having expressed in ink wisdom.

Watered by nature's caring hands, feed milk as if a child to be had, I stand with its nourished help I am able: filled in my trunk with many gifted treasures.

My works created flourishing as leaves emerged on my arm holding pen, I tower tall, holding my beloved hopes and to be cherished ambitions.

Driven to accomplish one thing, struggling seen headless in my attempts to be achieved: night and day riding horseman's dreams put in print.

Lone rider in lacking skills with endless desiring to be accomplished, rising me gradually in sunlight renewal: enduring climb to become out of self.

Refreshing my uncertainties on given endeavors, a steaming flow of doubts in moister from things endured: facts of my victories and failures.

Alive gushing forth life by my statements with its jet contained, throughout me bursting, me thinking with renewals to given notes in rushes as it erupts.

River filled with precious cargo going back and forth, deposited vessels flowing on its stream travels its course: venture with things to float.

Vault I to be containing features of life delighting, a watcher there but no one else see him present: a tree I stand as him to protect the nearby bank.

Investments are priceless gems to me, decades of countless links to all my loved fantasies, reaching roots were secure in my foundation from trunk.

Holding my arrows I shot at my targets, bulls eye against injustice to be my struck goals: times of living suspense and my concealed known secrets.

Concept of faith and doubts about proclaimed certainties, worker molting iron notes to paper, forming revisions presentation as gold statements.

Not in confirmation of any active evidence, with no firm assurances I am right, my path of a free reasoning: my rights against those who oppress.

I a fortress, in my belly my family, I love dearly me being with them, branches's arms functions work with tools: perform my thoughts with wand writing.

Tools shelter from threat, shovel and rake to rage war, security for my trunk having secrets, a will for me to speak and spit on injustice: assured victory.

Sharpen words to cut into a dead corpse, thoughts endearing in their creation to help others: route with pending thoughts I have by drawn pen.

Leaves so pleasing, reviving leaves as notes daily I do my job on them working: because I have snares among their glitters, leaves having nearby fallen.

Wind's gust reply to leaf event briskly cold in its chilling approach of autumn, wind conveyed: 'Hold misgivings. In spring leaves will return.'

Topic(s) of this poem: goals, human condition

Form: Prose Poem

Poet's Notes about The Poem

My storage of written treasures and their delights

Comments about I Do by Alexander Coppedge

  • Freshman - 537 Points Mohabeer Beeharry (8/26/2013 8:47:00 AM)

    To write and to write with a message and a purpose is the greatness of a poet.
    There are both here. Congrats.i like it very much.

    Mohabeer Beeharry (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, August 26, 2013

Poem Edited: Sunday, November 29, 2015

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