A rather "instant poem" 

 

This was my March 19/25 twelve-minute free write beginning from the lines 

“Look soft upon my legends . . .

                        . . . for myths contain the wings,”

 in Clint McElwaine's poem “Illusions,”

 which he brought to our monthly Poetry Circle:

 

 

Myths contain the wings

of hope, of grief, of love,

of fear, of wishes for a better story

wherein we can live in peace

and the joy that comes

with butterflies and dragons

landing softly upon legendary pads 

designed to bring light to

creep into wounded souls  

 

The trick, if trick it is,

the trick is not to give

a second chance to things

that shriek and howl

out of the darks of night

and the shadows of days

on which the sun’s overabundance

adds a sharper edge to the dim

where the light can’t

quite

get in

but can’t quite 

be blocked, completely,

out of touch with complex realities           

 

Look soft upon the scenes      

where help arrives

too late, too little   

the stuff of myth

of lessons offered up

 

 

This isn’t working

this attempt to equalize

light and dark

and glow and shadow

Free the pen – let it find

its own way, create its own legends    

fit for a time not so different

from the legends we inherit

and try to call history

stories of monumental achievement

casting a colourful shroud

over the prices paid

by the pained and suffering and

dispossessed

whose story looks for the cracks

in the artistry

of the perfect plot arc

from failure to success

 

Remember – even when the ink

                runs out

the story isn’t at its end –

the winning and the losing

remain eternally

                relative