We never understood one another, did we?
You were a flower, maybe a rose,
and I never caught more than a whiff,
and a pawful of thorns.
You complained about my isolation,
exiling myself on an island of Manxes,
a dog guy who never fit in
with their kind of cat.
So you sat, looking for some bee to
drop his gold dust at your gate,
or maybe an artist to pluck and
render you in forever.
I stand and watch the sea, awaiting
inspiration to express myself,
just not only to you. Maybe we have
an understanding after all.
A 100-word freewrite about writing free for Day 27 of Poem-A-Day April NaPoWriMo 2014. By the way, for the 98% of you for whom I’m too dense and tortured in my allusions and metaphors. Manxes are what you call folks from the Isle of MAN. Yeah, it’s a poet-guy thing.