Confident
Resounding on the hardwood floor
To let them
To let myself
Hear the movement forward
Not a rocket
Shooting off
Inspired
On fire
Turning out the pages
Faster than I can count
Not the NASCAR racer
Tearing up the track
Passing all
As if they were
Standing still
Watching in awe
As I pass
No
Much as I would like it
My toes are only inching forward
Wheels turning slowly
A snail
Leaving a perfect trail
Of neatly ordered
Slowly formed
Through intense pressure
Stones
Perhaps someday
It'll be a diamond
There never has been a single optimum speed. We all must get there as best we can.
ReplyDeleteWe all have a pace and we each move at the pace we know is right for us. Shakes if you need an objective eye...
ReplyDeleteYou'll get there... I know it.
ReplyDeleteI think you alredy are... a DIAMOND
ReplyDeleteGreat poem, Sh.!!!
It's hard to be patient. But forward is a good direction, no matter what the speed.
ReplyDeleteAnd so the poem or story is written
ReplyDeleteone word at a time.
A nice reflection, thanks! :-)
My current life, exactly--but much more elegantly put than I would have.
ReplyDeleteA beautiful metaphor comparing yourself to the making of a diamond rather then a 'diamond in the rough'. nice use of onomatopoeia and rhythm throughout the poem.
ReplyDeletejoanny