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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required 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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