Email Poem

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The name of this poem is "…" So the first line is shown.
The system would not let me put that in the title box. Sew, so...


...

Hear and now, know here and now, no! No!
It is all wrong, “aint” that a fact?
No. Really… no. 

Aint, paint, saint, I feel faint. 
! Yes. Use that one. ! Use it again!!! (! Symbol and then…)
How about a ? ? (? Symbol for question and then ? for punctuation correct)
That is odd. Let us not discuss txting. (texting, xing, dead when driving)

Small “c”, big “C”, capitalized. 
What about the rest of the letters?
Are numbers okay to use, if I forget how to spell, to, two, too much?
Paints in the box. The letters the shapes the textures of life. 
Smell them. Take them in with every wiff, whiff? (Onomatopoeia, can you sing that?)

Double “dd”, double “tt”, double “oo”, wrong word score. 
Spear, fear, mear, mere, “find the thesaurus”. 
Have you ever spent time reading one?
You should.

The dictionary was badly burned in 1963.
No one nose, no's, knows who set the fire… 
We did not land on the moon. 
It was a sad day, but our people came home. 
Safe.
The world moved on…

Remember when they gave spelling tests?
Three times each and every word, every line, get one wrong then do nine!
Are you still wondering the name of this poem? (...)
Laughter is the best place to begin looking at ourselves. 

Mixed paint in a tray. Pencils, pens, art in words…Free Speech!
Hold on to your flag...
We, all of us… build sentences, 
erect paragraphs and dream up skyscraper stories.
We swirl and whirl words around until they fit together, 
The effort to find the perfect match. 
The ultimate combination of acceptance and understanding.

Authors don’t get to stand and sing on stage, we must be quiet. 
Storytellers rarely receive the time they need to fix the uncertain details.
Maps are lost, tiny jewels fall between the cracks, 
but swiftly pens capture, miracles and even an epiphany.
Patient warriors, working for no one on earth, 
fixed on collecting nothing more 
than the truth.
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