Shark week on TV and Sheldon was excited as he had ever been.
He got out his pad of paper, his iced tea, his TV Guide and his pen.
He would figure out what channel featured his favorite show and then…
He would sit here, relaxing in his recliner, stirring his iced tea with his fin.
Lemon luminous lanterns soft lighting
A breeze of Peppermint tea leaves or coffee feels exciting
Mellow melodic music makes for melancholy musings
Intense Incense that insists on being noticed
Pad of paper and motivated ink to create my magnum opus
Fabric of old habits incapsulates the soothing
Butter pecan but it’s more vanilla for this bowl
A tumbler of whiskey for when my taste buds are out of control
This amateur weatherman feels the wind slide in from the east
Satisfied I’ve carefully curated my amalgamation of peace
The Stage
We are often alone when we write.
We use ink, or blood, depending.
The color often defining the mood.
A quill, a feather a plume,
a sharp PIN indeed, to prick…the imagination.
8.5 x 11 a scary place.
On the computer it is easier, as I can change the view.
Yet it is far less personal.
A pad of paper, a single page…
A chance to perform;
speaking out for fun,
teaching skills, traditions,
gathering and protecting history,
our very way(s) of life.
Things we can share with each other,
if we dare spend the time, for it is short.
Capitalization, pronunciation, time honored commas…
Parentheses, run on sentences that never stop chasing ideas.
Colors of paper, instruments of recording,
harsh and soft, tools of the trade,
worthless without hands or more importantly
thoughts to guide them.
Speak out, speak up, speak for, speak with…
even stand up, and dare to speak against!
Use your chance to build and not tear down.
All eyes upon your words,
as they fight to represent something greater,
than “self”.
The Banks of Serenity
Under the trees and on the river
Here I find my rest
No voices beckon or holler here
It’s just silence of the water
The Willows bend towards love
The Oaks stand sturdy like men
And here I paddle my little boat
Away from yanks of mayhem
Here in my vessel along side
A pad of paper and stylets
Drawing the river banks foliage
Writing sonnets on summers eve
Knowing my trip of peace ~ ends
As soon as I dock in a few yards
And the bustle and echoes repeat
The voices return to anchor
Me to The Earth again
But, tomorrow will come soon
With another journey alone
My vessel will be filled again
Gliding the serene river of mine
Found on the banks of Serenity
Stopping anxious time
2016 Bonnie jennings. All Rights Reserved
A pad of paper
Clicking pen
Words on a page
You wouldn't understand
Thoughts and feelings
Swirling in his head
Images of things unseen
His words remain not said
Circle of silver
Round and round
Shine from the bright works
Falling to the ground
She walks in the room
As the ring hits the floor
The look on his face
One never seen before
My pen and my paper,
it's all that i need,
when i want to fuel minds,
and set sad souls free,
when I'm feeling depressed and lonely,
and my heart begins to bleed,
I drop ink on my paper pad,
and my pen begins to lead.
It leads me away from reality,
the sadness, spite, and greed,
it takes me away to a far away place
where there is no want or need.
There are no limits or boundaries,
my imagination is set free,
if only life were as easy,
we'd all be happy, and carefree.
Within the realm of human imagination,
the immortal spirit is allowed to be free.
Fantasies gather in the brain's thought room,
opening eyes to the possibilities that could be.
Painting emerge from the mind's cocoon,
showing new visions to narrow hearts.
While precious words grace a pad of paper,
woven into a magical soul of human parts.
Artistic dreams drift through the human race,
testing society's ever changing taste.
These fluid ideas are blown through the world,
blossoming once before turning into waste.
Human imagination floods life's mountains,
seeking to give the ethereal soul a fairy's flight.
This boiling cauldron of creative juices
blesses a human being with fabled delight.
Bought a pad of paper
Has lines on it
One hundred pages of paper
Already stained
Stole a Staedtler marker
Just a pen really
Stuffed with ink all waterproof
Document proof and lightfast
Wrote a poem just like this one
Used the pen to do it
Filled exactly one page of one hundred too
Just to spit this kyfe off
Too tired to do anything else
Waste time accept it
Because I don’t give a damn
Too tired to care
Shredded and burned this pad of paper
One hundred dreams too ashes
A million memories smoked
So what burned my hand too
Carried a flame in my heart
Left it in those pages
Hung out to dry
Like my soul in jet ink
Smeared across my face my hand
Smudged across my face too
So what, so who cares
The cliff base kicked me in the face
If all else fails
Grab a pad of paper
And plenty of useful pens
Express your feelings wholly
Forget the social trends
If all else fails
Seek the unconditional love
Of family and of friends
The time is not yet to rule out
Making truthful amends
If all else fails
Take a road trip
With your idealistic thoughts
Think of the most precious memory
And all the laughter and love it brought
If all else fails
Search deep with inside yourself
See what you may or may not find
For if all else fails, what else is left?
Than your foolish, selfish mind
© Stacy Lynn Stiles
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