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My pen & paper… my Aeneas


©copyright2014owpp

©copyright2014owpp

After a long absence I take you between my thumb & index
Hoping to continue an interrupted alliance.
In doubtful moments you call, I long…

Words, shapes, phrases, impressions, perceptions, all dance
To my attention but life hollers, its pulse goes on beating,
Its stream resumes its course then, I forget…

I adapt… Until your next signal.

I remember the bond, the relief, sincerity & trust…
Treating you as a living might be ridiculed, to me you are
Most alive, available around the world,

Pristine & unwrinkled you absorb my unpublished, my Arcanum. (1)
Your condition, that I come along provided with ink & scratch
The cavities of my brain.

I will always be thirsty for more so, after a long or short lapse
Count me among your unwavering, your fidus Achates. (2)
My pen & paper, my Aeneas. (3)

P.S This poem was written far back in 1991 then I adjusted it in 2013 & today I readjusted it again!
hope you’ll like it 🙂

(1) Arcanum

A deep secret, a mystery

(2) Fidus Achates

A faithful friend or companion

(3) Aeneas

n. Greek & Roman Mythology
The Trojan hero of Virgil’s epic poem, the Aeneid, and son of Anchises and Aphrodite. He escaped the sack of Troy and wandered for seven years before settling in Italy.

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In the act of writing March 2011


Eiffel tower wheels ©copyright2013owpp

Eiffel tower wheels
©copyright2013owpp

This essay was one of my assignments and was written in a tongue-in-cheek manner,
I do not take myself that seriously 🙂 It was about describing oneself in the act
of writing, which I called just that…

In the act of writing
—————–

I usually prepare an assignment long in advance.
Plotting, collecting information, mincing, digesting the style that is about to be born.
Yet, today, I come as ludicrously bare as can be.
I stare at a white immaculate sheet of paper and ponder at the outrageous idea of writing, as a working exercise, as opposed to a burst of fervid passion.
Or, to the growth of my imagination spilling forth in an overflow.
I am surrounded by dictionaries and thesauruses of all kind that, I trust, will unravel the mysteries of words and impel me to the creation of a literary magnificence.
Gilded rays of a timid autumn sun pierce through the remote glass window door, of the balcony, maintaining this room in perpetual darkness, keeping its occupants in sempiternal slumber throughout the seasons of the years.
Nevertheless, I find my mind juggling with phraseology, feeling like a choreographer bearing the conception of a chef-d’oeuvre.
I amalgate ideas, terms, observations and philosophies, in anticipation of a new era…
The creation of my magnum opus.
Hours slide by, in the stimulating atmosphere of reflection and contemplation and I see, merging from the profundity and intricacies of my brain, the outlines of what seems the sketches of an essay.
The gratification of my labor.
I hold dearly unto my chain of thoughts hushing anyone daring any resemblance of vicinity.
I toil away, inching my way through the haze and vasty of language, aware of a day coming to its end, as the sun retrieves its warmth, preparing itself to enlighten another part of the planet’s obscurities.
I close the chapter at its culmination, satisfied by the denouement, at peace by its genesis and in synchronization with the heartbeats of the universe.
I look around and become aware, au fait of stepping out of a different dimension.

All is still.

Everyone having left me to my occupations and busy with theirs, outdoors.
I am surprised to observe the constant rebirth of my soul at the completion of what I fantasize, is

the emergence of my prodigy 🙂