Ode to Inspiration – In a Sentence

The following prose is inspired by and dedicated to the resplendent soul of my dear friend, Gayle Frank. You honored me dearly, on the evening just passed, in a manner which left me plain speechless. Found me some words now…

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Tangerine Dream “Love on a Real Train”

No words…
Quite often they fail
Given that I specialize in spoken verse
You’d be forgiven for expecting mighty fleet to set sail
Every act of kindness that reminds me of my worth
Confides a blessing, dresses down a curse
However, while endeavoring to sever ties with silence
Often, insufficient improvisions are provided
One sweet observation can do more than tide me over
Every cherry picked depicts a lucky four leaf clover
Not a thing is missed, no gesture falls upon deaf ears
Not easy to compose a sentence choking back the happy tears
Rolling back the years to way before the loss of innocence
When fears were absent, if I had them they were inconspicuous
Back then, I would tend to trend towards all things ridiculous
Stickler for vast imagination

Many years then passed and, at the umpteenth time of asking, I began at last to find appreciation
For the art of flying kites with heightened sense of unapologetic feeling
Each address revealing what I’m seeing and believing
That even when I’m feeling low
Can barely make split ends of all the reeling
There is some place to go
The show it must go on
And should this be the encore
Then I’ve saved the best for curtain fall
Uncertain of what lies ahead, I’m hurting for a happy ending
Spent too long as great pretender
Now, the possibilities are endless
Composing every sentence from the essence of my deepest soul
May not be ever present, but I’m never less than on the sweetest roll each time impressed upon by words that give not take their toll
Lending the strength to go where no one went before me
Just because the few select adore me

Suddenly, I’m in the game
Inner child proceeds to play
Words quite often fail me
In the moment for this reason
Too busy climbing trees in all four seasons
Too busy skimming stones across the rivers of belief
Too busy placing milk teeth underneath my pillowcase
Too busy chasing rainbows, stroking unicorns and suchlike
Too busy crinkling noses, playing ring around the roses
With rosy red dimples spread across my smiling face
Here I do not all fall down
Here I rise up from the bonfire of vanities fanning me down
Here I can leap with blind faith, allow my bare feet to dig deep in the earth as I offer wide berth to the ground
Here I do not make a sound
Yet compose a grand Opus
Here I get lost to be found
Not a thing is deemed hopeless
The world is in transition right now
Should I take up position to the left of the murder
Then every last crow becomes raven
Call it daylight saving as I tend to spend our whole night misbehaving
However, we the voiceless are the ones who shall rejoice within the winds of global changes

One by one, we are finding our feet
Finding our tongues and our freedom of speech
All of us learn, every one of us teaches
Some of us may preach, yet only ever out of sense of irony
While any pessimists among us are entitled to their views
Those who truly hang from every word can have theirs too
We’ll simply speak up louder
Find the other side and break on through
Much ado about so much and such a crutch we bear when out of touch
Much rather make a power play and rush towards the touchdown
Much too much to lose and snoozing sounds too much like soldier blues
Let’s buck a trend and shine some shoes
Comprise a single shape in mighty shade, 300 brave
Words never ever failing us, engraved in shields like swords in stones
The holy grail is not a myth, its legend lies within us
All of us are sainted here, exonerated sinners

This is home
We. Are. Tribe.

Side-by-side and ever dignified
Even though we’re lusting monsters, we have trusting eyes
We have souls inside us, too composed to stay inside
Some of us are rabbits, others lions, unicorns and mice
Choose your poison, shift some shapes
Leave it to me slaying demons at the great gate
Feel free to lounge within our mighty shade
For every one of you who shine a light in my direction
Deserve this blessed mention, comprehension that the possibilities are indeed endless
No words then, they fail
Howbeit, within rivers of the frail

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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  1. You’ve sentenced my emotions to a beautiful death here. It’s beyond spiritually uplifting. A tear jerker and heart burster, thank you for something incredibly strengthening.

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