Wojja sat alone one day with some rhyme
But felt ill at ease ‘because it wasn’t his time
He wrestled and tumbled and played dice with his words
But they just wouldn’t fly, like fledgling birds
He sat, he thought, and got his tongue in a twist
And his mind got lost like a ship in the mist
He mixed all his words like pieces in a puzzle
But they just wouldn’t work like a gun without a muzzle,
Confused not amused he almost gave up the ghost
And felt all alone like a sentry at his post.
Then one day as if out of the blue
He came across a man with a cycle made for two
The man looked kind with a light in his eye,
Wojja wondered perhaps he can tell me why
My words don’t work they never seem to fit
Lifeless and dumb, without any wit,
So Wojja took a breath as deep as the sea
And laid them on the table for the kind man to see
The stranger looked once, then looked twice
And with words so warm he melted them like ice,
Wojja was amazed as his words disappeared
His brain it froze his heart it feared
The stranger on a bike with a golden beard.
If you’ve nothing else to do said the stranger on his bike
We can go for a ride in a land I'm sure you’ll like,
Through mountains and valleys by rivers they roamed,
And stopped by a beach where they fine tooth combed,
Wojja was amazed at what was found
As words like jewels lay scattered all around,
Words of wisdom words of truth,
Long forgotten since the days of his youth,
They sifted words slowly;
On the long shoreline,
And laid them side by side in a long long line.
Wojja was startled at the long line of words
As they rose in his heart and sang like birds
Singing him a song he’d never heard before,
On the sand, by the beach, by the long sea shore.
The very next day they went into the hills
And Wojja was again astonished by the skills
Of the stranger with a tongue that cured his ills
They went inside a mine, long forgotten almost lost
And mighty stones the stranger aside he tossed
And showed Wojja words from the land of Latin
That shone like the sun, embossed as though in satin
Wojja trembled, his eyes filled with tears
And remembered again after many years,
That when you hear the muse you should ensure,
That you don’t keep them buried,
Like jewels by the shore.
© 2009
words grow beard on your aging lines...thanks for this long ballad
Very talented Wojja, A nice little read in the land of dreams. Can't get much better than this.10++
What I have conceived is that the poem interplays between three facets making it a triage. The essentials of learning from the surroundings are very much obvious from the stanzas. The second facet deals with a tale that you actually might have experienced and that rendered you to write this beautiful poem. The third facet is I think more important that deals with several things and some of the them are even unoticed in normal days, yet have some high ranked lessons hidden in them. It is a usual phenomenon that we sometimes find it difficult to write what we feel in words for several reasons and in such confusional states one should always have a look at the surroundings to increase his or her observant instincts, this will surely lead to generation of several ideas and might maintain a continuity of words. Sometimes in such situations we are unable to decide or put things in order, so one must listen what others advise in such particular moments for it could actually repace the previous skillful tendencies..........The essence is rather very clear that even in such stagnation of brain and thoughts, one can still find ways to regain the lost art if one has a scenical nature and an urge to seek more and more......
Hmm...advice of the muse well taken... And even if your tongue's twisted or your brain's clogged...the clarity of your writing is crystal all the way~! ! Cheers. Subroto
What a lovely cure for writers block. The pictures flowed from your words and were painted so nicely in my mind. T
Oh Well done, unique...love the title, the rest of it too. You really have the flair to turn whatever you put a hand and mind to, into a masterpiece...showing me for one - how it is done...Cindy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like how you play with words! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !