Tuesday, June 1, 2010


I wrote this a few months ago when I was in what can only be called a "Whimsical" mood.


My Cloud and Me.

I sit on my cloud and he carries me over
the land that my father will give me.
The misty white mountains are cold and refreshing,
but soon we fly out to the sea.

The sea is all covered in white foamy wave caps
And mermaids wave at me from rocks.
My whimsical cloud floats me over a cliff,
And I see a white spotted fox.

Some dragons are singing, their fierce pitches ringing;
My cloud moves me quite far above them.
He dips me around ‘til we fly over ground
That lies flat and clear-cut below him.

Miles after miles of plains stretch before us,
With great waves of ready, ripe grain,
Their sweet earthy fragrance, it floats up before us,
But soon we are flying through rain.

It’s time for my cloud to bring me back to the ground;
He drops me at the door of the palace.
When I enter in, I will be crowned as queen,
With a scepter, a throne, and a chalice.

I stand for a while, and I hunt for my smile,
but my hand will not open the door.
So I call for my cloud, and I cry out, out loud,
“Take me up where we can soar!”

Someday we’ll come back, when my father is old,
And then I’ll take over the throne,
But right now I’m free, just my cloud and me,
We’ll fly through the air, but we won’t be alone.



Photo Credit: http://avanimation.avsupport.com/files/backgrnd/Clouds.htm

5 comments:

  1. Except for the "when my father is old" line this is a beautiful poem.

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  2. I wonder if you could create a special piece of pottery for each poem you write.. this one could be painted with clouds on it. Take a photo of each piece and place along with the poem in a coffee table book.

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  3. That is a great marketing idea, Dad. I could be The Writing Potter.

    Obviously, the father in this poem is not you. It's some other father who is capable of becoming old.

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  4. What was the inspiration for this poem?

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  5. You know, Ryan...I have no idea. I can't remember for the life of me. I know I was substituting for a 6th period class and I couldn't get on the internet so I wrote it out whimsical desperation. I guess boredom was my inspiration.

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