Of course that’s not what he said to me but perception is reality and this is what I like to believe, that when this Nobel laureate decided it was time to put his squat pen to rest, leave, this is what he had to say
“Continue with your day, kind fellow, make me proud by writing poetry that has no alternative than to envelope… develop”
A slippery slope, knowing what will be the right, wrong thing to write, and besides, who will now get to judge my sleight of hand
A mammoth of a man with just one plan, to take to the people, creep into their subconscious with his supremely infectious manner
I need now be a planner, learn a brand new way to take to the people
Without his wit and his aplomb, an all too nurturing attitude whenever he found himself a long way from home
I see I will always be relatively alone, just my pen and I, now and then getting to treat people to a literary ZEN atop a cup of coffee, the Word Search perhaps
It entirely depends upon my imagination, how best I see fit when it comes to the word I use in order to suit any chosen situation
Contemplation comes into it of course, and I still don’t quite know if I can read my stuff, or if it will in fact leave me holding remorse, not to mention blindingly hoarse
But still, the words flow through my veins however much discourse I meet
I’ll most probably have to brush myself off, find my feet, eat those words
Further down the line when I finally do feel my time has come, do I take a backseat, an eager observers place, or face the furor, the often affront which other observers will all too wittingly attempt to place

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