Daily Prompt – Snippet
Our precious words we lock away
Save them for a rainy day
Imprisoned in our minds they stay
Never to see the light of day
Anxiously they pine away
Falling into disarray
Ideas once bright dimly glow
If only we could let them go
Across blank paper freely flow
Till new dawn the rooster crows
Weaving tales of wondrous lore
Shaking readers to the core
Alas, not yet, it’s far too soon
Maybe come next blue moon
Inspired by Daily Prompt – Paper
If only the creative process
Would yield to intimidation.
The scenario would go something like this:
Alright you little buggers,
I know you’re in there
All jumbled up together
In a nonsensical mass
Back in the darkest
Recesses of my mind.
I demand you hold
Your serifs up high
And step forward
In a coherent sentence
Or else I’ll tear you apart
Letter by letter
Punctuating your demise
And they say writers are unstable.
HERE AND NOW:
I am fortunate
To have free time
To put pen to paper
I am thankful
My mind is still intact
As I inch closer to my
Seventh decade of life
I am happy
To have an outlet for
My creative endeavors
I am humbled
To share my thoughts
I am hopeful
Will keep coming
I am excited
To see the arrival of
The first hummingbird
She was a formidable figure…a force with which to be reckoned.
Our paths crossed in 1966 at Westside High School in Omaha, Nebraska.
Judith Hoyt taught English Composition, a prerequisite for graduation.
It was the luck of the scheduler’s draw that landed me in her class.
Mention of my fate drew knowing looks of pity from classmates.
“Good luck” they muttered under their collective breath, with a sly smile.
A consummate taskmaster, Mrs. Hoyt tolerated no horseplay within her hallowed walls. Straighten up and fly right was her credo.
She expected and most often extracted the very best from her students.
While quick to jump on sloppy work, Mrs. Hoyt was equally free with praise.
Those who went the distance in meeting her exacting standards gained
a level of literacy as writers which would serve them well in life.
While her subject expertise and commanding presence in the classroom were her visible trademarks, Mrs. Hoyt’s secret weapon was her uncanny ability to
surmise the unique essence of each student and to capitalize upon her insight.
It was years after the fact when I finally fully grasped her brilliance.
Thumbing through my Warrior yearbook, I came upon her inscription:
“If you know it…
And you do,
You can say it…
And you will.”
Four lines containing a mere fourteen words nailed me to a “T”.
Judith Hoyt understood long before I the symbiotic interplay of expertise
and confidence which defines me to this day.