Voice of the Mountain
by Shawn K. Inlow
Today, and on subsequent Thursdays, I'll be sharing with you some original poems. I hope you enjoy them. So far, the Voice of the Mountain has been about cultural issues and politics, global warming, violence in our society, and electioneering... um, vote rigging, not the awesome Radiohead song.
Where it comes to music, I am trying to enlist some friends to put up some original music for you. Music that nobody on the planet has ever heard before. It is just another way to stretch our creative muscles. You can judge whether or not I have any vocal ability when that day comes. I write songs and sing but cannot write music or play an instrument. I need collaboration. And lots of it.
I am thinking soon to begin to publish a serialized science fiction story, called "Solid," and aim to take you on a near future trip to Los Angeles, the Pacific Ocean, the American Desert, near and deep space. I hope also to turn you on to a very good young graphic artist in my family, if he's willing to do some art for the serialized story.
For my first piece of Thursday Poetry Corner, here is something I wrote about the magic of childhood and kind of in the spirit of Christmas. I felt like the blog shouldn't always be so heavy.
The Incredible Larry
"There is a moment at the dawning of each day
When there is the possibility of magic." - s.inlow
The Incredible Larry played in the snow.
Incredible was a wizard, you know.
Still, his mother was unaware
Of the pre-breakfast magic that was happening there.
The Incredible Larry whirled in the snow,
Tossing his mittens as high as they'd go,
Tracking his footprints on top of the ground,
Stretching his snow-suited arms all around.
Jumping and rolling and plopping and laughing
Lolling and plowing and angel wing flapping.
Quietly weaving a little kid spell.
Knowing things even a mother can't tell.
Larry, the name his parents bestowed.
Incredible, the name the wind whispered low.
He gathered enough stuff and crafted a ball,
Then whipped up two more to make it stand tall.
And he braced himself versus the wind he was fighting,
Ever so watchful as dawn was alighting.
The first ray of morning came down from the skies
And refracted, reflected, through the purest of eyes.
Then Larry breathed the incredibly softest of sighs.
Then the light and the steam of his breath carried back
To a snowman that stood in a snow angel track.
On the arm of the wind, past a footprint, a mitten,
These gifts of a boy to a snowman were given:
The light and a sigh at the breaking of day,
Just as the sun sent the stars on their way.
Just then, with the gift of a moment released,
The world rested for once, unaware, and at peace.
Then a call rang out from the porch up above.
"Oh, Incredible! Come in! It's breakfast time, Love!"
Larry wondered how mother could know his real name
As the chill of the dawn was erased by hearth-flame.
In the sight of a snow-man on the side of a hill
Are these gifts of small pleasures laid perfectly still.
The wants and the needs of all people fulfilled,
All there for the taking. Pick them up, if you will.
Shawn K. Inlow
Osceola Mills, Pa.
...so send me YOUR poem. I'll put it up on the blog on a Thursday. And Merry Christmas to you and all your families.