Member Rara Avis
This poem goes back several months, before these forums became a reality, to what seems like a life-time ago. In another forum, smaller than this one but filled with the same sense of camaraderie, three wonderful people harangued me with flattery and nudged me to write more. This poem, using quotes from their posts, was my answer.
A Gathering of Threads
I saw a daft woman aside the road
Sacrificing her coat on bended knees,
Bravely braving the Phoenix cold -
A victim, it seemed, of rhymer's disease.
With amazing traces of deified faces,
And a rhyme scheme not easily ignored,
In quatrain litanies of Hallmark phrases,
She argued, "Virtue is its own reward."
Imagine my cry, when out of the sky,
From the Sunshine came an answering rhyme.
In meter it spoke, with question replied
Softly, "You do this all in your spare time?"
With eyes now a'tear, my heart full of cheer,
Of my gratitude I softly told her.
Then a sense of genius I felt grow near,
And a hearty hand fell to my shoulder.
Draped in gray robes of unspoken hopes,
His voice spoke in verse of quieter times,
When worthy words were more easily wrote
And we shared, as friends, our favorite rhymes.
I nodded my head at the words he said,
In my heart knowing I couldn't decline
To follow his path where ever it led,
As he added, "Kick down with a fresh line."
I gathered my friends in digital arms,
My smiles growing at the simple request.
If patience be virtue, what be the harm
Of simply trying my digital best?
The victim of rhymer's disease, the Sunshine that so often responds in verse, and the genius in robes of unspoken hope are all here, amonst you. Can you guess who they might be?