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Poem
I took it all for granted. The sky, the stars, the wind, 
the flowers, the grass, the trees.
I expected to see my friends every day, 
it was boring, dull, humdrum, if you please.
In my mediocre mind-set, I was walking to a friends’ house, 
not enjoying a breeze.
Not paying any attention to the sky, the wind, 
the flowers, the grass or the trees.

When I am grabbed from behind, very hard and fast, a murderer’s plan.
I am wrenched off my feet, and thrown into a hard, cold, uncaring van.
Chloroform is placed on my face, and I think I am going to the promise land.
I am out like a light, at the mercy of a non-writing rock and roll band.

I awaken on a firm mattress in the corner of a dark and dank cage.
Hey! Long-hair yells, she is awake. Let’s make her write us a poem or a page.
I sit up and glare at the four identically dressed men whose plan in unhinged.
If they think I am writing anything for them, they should try and think again. 

You are our prisoner, one tells me, in a really snotty, uppity way.
Yes, you can have food and stuff, but you are going to definitely stay
Until you write some songs for us, and they better be a hooray
Or we can get rid of you, for we are musicians, and we do not play.

They kept me for six years, when I never saw a park, dog or the sun.
Caged in a day care center with a bunch of two’s 
would have been quite a bit more fun.
Wrote many songs, about a clever woman who tricked her captor 
into letting her run,
But she got caught up in their drama, 
this intelligent slippery songwriter of one.

For years I did not see flowers, trees, or anything I used to not see.
Beauty I used to take for granted, and not care about, 
obtuse, I could be.
I did not see the stars, the sun, the snow, the moon, 
or my maniacal mean cousin Lee.
Prisoner until I had written songs for them, 
magic number six hundred eighty-three

Written 3-23-2019
Contest:  Freedom to nothing is something
Sponsor: Deliah Ventura
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