All a Bored...find Refuge
All a Bored and Escape to Imaginary Places, the Likes of Which You Have Never Seen
From my train of thoughts to yours.
All A Bored Find Refuge.
It's just pulling in
The Imagination Express,
a quatrain of delight
near the conjunction of
your stationary thoughts.
Its sing-song, clackety-clack
rhythms of life draw
all poets near and far. Flowing swiftly
across the tracks
laid by poets of old,
hammered out in
long curved lines of steel,
each one identified by
as number or letter
punctuated perfectly
in endless lines that
weave their way
into your thoughts
across the remnants of trees.
which are the ingredients
of a poets platform,
A Royal cannonball
or an Olympia
of contemplation
speeding across
the many spans of attention
drawing sustenance
from the liquid ink
and extract of a tanka
that propels it
eager to refuel
your mind with
pearls of wisdom
burning bright. Each spark
of inspiration
excites tiny children
and adults alike,
where the clickety-clack
of words infused
by poets welcome all. Dr. Suess, and Mother goose,
mingle with Robert Frost,
on these trains of thought
beside Walt Whitman
as they casually toss
sweet, words of joy across
the brain waves of
all readers who've hungered
since their loss. Where two Roads diverge
on leaves of grass,
and The cat in the hat with any luck sir,
will most likely be your conductor,
please join us in the dining car,
for Little Miss Muffet's curds and whey,
and some of Jack Horner's pie
our special today.
All A bored,
will find wonders here,
on an idyllic journey
over pastoral plains,
grab your claim tickets
for the dreams you will find
emerging from the
sleeping berths
of writers awakening See the sonnets
in their bonnets,
herding each lambic
into a cattle car,
just a pentameter away. Grab your litotes
and your laptops
and climb aboard,
we'll be stopping near Sandburg,
for some lunch with Carl,
and visit Anne's bookstore
on Bradstreet. We will be long
past tense by morning,
so grab a seat
next to an oxymoron,
who is smartly attired,
or if travel sickness plagues you,
sit with a paradox who can aid you. Find a relaxing composition,
and make friends with all,
"I never metaphor I didn't like."
Thus our epic journey begins,
enjoy the ride.
Tickets please!
© 2010 Matthew Frederick Blowers III