CHOOSING THE RIGHT WORDS

A License for Wishing
by TwoHawk Speaking for White Eagle

Spirits of the Earth
Devas of natural worth
Devils by nature at their birth, worthy of honoring words
Ones who like to laugh in a good way, but not at you.
They mix their magic elixirs for us with lots of mirth
Intoxicating little fairies, elves with leprechan ears
Saying play with us, all you little foxes, all you little birds.
All you little deer with little tails and little unicorns, too.
With big cornucopias of plenty.....
The mythical tales of a writer's knowing
The ancient books with big fat bookworms
Soft cover offerings searching for recognition
Tucked away in little libraries 'round the world.
Looking like the folds and creases,
Forms well hidden in silent drum-skins sounding like....
Thunder groaning...
lightning hissing.....
foundations
crumbling sometimes,
sometimes sitting still.
Or gathering dust. Bindings failing
So old they've been opened many times, they're falling apart at the seam
Containing findings that aren't always as firm as they intended to be either.
I wonder if some of the words within the confines of the author’s page
Are wandering around looking for answers
On someone else's page.
Such as the writer's real intentions......
his real characters....
or some of the scenes he chose to leave out.......
Somehow they get lost in the rubble, a costly mistake if the reader gets wind of it...
It seems The Author may have to redefine a couple of words like having sex between the covers.
Clean them up a bit......
If you know what I mean.
Soft covers become tattered sooner than hard covers do......
I wonder if the words inside these other books
Are different. Fragile, less permanent....or indifferent to it all....hmm...
I think I will go outside the books I've written
And look for a score of answers to some other queries.
Rumi told us not to take the words we find in his poems home with us.
They live at a different address than ours, he said.
I
Liked
That.
Rumi, your presence in my life today,
And The Word Presents you so graciously bring to me
Helping me to rhyme, helping me to sing
About My Beloved, too. About my life.
Divine poetic essence fully in use.
Even helping me to type like this
Making treasures out of phrases' inner wealth.
Chalices for Alices in Wonderland
I'll type it all in. I'll drink it all down. I'll sip every drop and be drunk on the rim
Of Listening and Playing with The Spirits of Words
They weren't meant to be serious,
At the same time they're full of mirth!
Then, I'll take a break, light up a cigarette
Put my mouse down, my journals, my pencils, my smile, my frown
My books, my opinons and my crowns,
Wherever they may be found.
I can't hold any of them still..... anymore.
My words keep
wiggling and jiggling
And jumping
off the page
My pages keep giggling and laughing with glee as words flee from my lap
Its gonna be a great poetic week this time. I can tell.
I'm gonna go wishin' without a bucket
A Licence for Drinking from The Old Well
Instead of A License for Drinking Myself to Hell(which I did last week).
(Some Elves just don't know how to cast a good spell when they drink the stuff!)
A License for Wishing to Laugh inside the purse
Of a naked lady lying on the beach
If you say your prayers right, sing sweet nothings,
You could end up on her belly while she lies there giggling.

Aho!