Imagination
Limitless possibilities,
Lore and myth, religion,
Ever-expanding realities,
All imagination.
Have you dreamed colors that do not exist?
And are you uncertain of that lunar eclipse?
Can you think of a good, midnight twist?
Does your mind ever draw a single ellipse?
Is there a creature, a character or little miss priss?
Are they raving or looting or feeling love’s first kiss?
And what of your dashing protagonist?
Does he cry out in pain, or march through the mist?
Battles and Wars, science-fiction,
these are the fruits of imagination.
Terror and horrors, and grotesque lim-er-icks,
all at the mercy of unkind critics.
Is it their mother or father’s mishap
that led your M-C into all that claptrap?
Or is it a quick emanation of craft,
something you cooked up, to bore or to shaft?
A dream, and a screen, and a few words obscene
A satirical note for life’s lamentation,
Women preen with white cream in a deadly latrine
The signs of life in imagination.
A clock, and a tower, or a friendly courtyard
a tock without power, sent by a bard,
a Cock ne’er cower, when stripped of its lard,
and will not hock nor sour a stolen key-card.
And if you should find yourself at a wall,
a book from the shelf to you will call.
With open mind, read the page and stand tall,
for imagination will no longer stall.
Worlds and worlds on paper you’ll write,
this I have mentioned, it’s one way to fight,
the stagnation of a man, whom has no part,
but to play to the crowd through his only art.
Be it pictures, of photo or ink in your sight,
or something more, it shall be your right,
to poke and to prod ’til a new creation
spews from the well-spring of imagination.
Belabored or bred or trained through the night
All you need do is keep your aim tight,
sights on the sun or the sea, or mountains
imagine them all, and a few thousand more tons.
When hope springs eternal just look to the trees,
submerse yourself in determination.
To keep yourself afloat in rough seas,
keep your mind on imagination.
For hours and hours one could go on,
‘specially ’bout the prodigal fawn
but for now I believe we’re on the same page,
our hearts and brains, imagination? No cage.