(Click first photo to enlarge, then click on arrows.)
This Poem is a Sort of Street
This poem is a sort of street.
I wonder who I’m going to meet
as I walk down the dust of it––
plod along the “must” of it.
I do not know where I am going.
I follow it while never knowing
what’s around the next blind bend.
I do not know how it will end.
Each line is a new adventure
leading to acclaim or censure.
The GPS that’s guiding me––
determining what I will see––
is lodged so deep and far inside
a road stretched out so long and wide
that it must guide or I’ll get lost
in ruts of words and pay the cost
of trying to control by mind––
a street that’s meant to twist and wind
guided by a force within
that is intuitive and yin.
It is a guide that’s mostly lost
in this world so tempest-tossed.
The drop of it that I infuse
in rhymes that others then may choose
to read and ponder is the way
that I have chosen to try to pay
the toll for this tremendous gift
of life where I have learned too well
the lessons of the school bell.
I’ve learned to turn a deaf ear to
what pedants say I need to do
and take each day a road that’s new.
I’m led by dreams and intuition
down streets with no thought of fruition
but instead careen and ramble
without an outline or preamble
into places I’d never go
if I just reported what I know.
Then I record all that I see
so you can learn along with me.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
Beautiful poem. Excellent take on the prompt.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Indira. If I had to think up the answers to these prompts, I’d be in trouble. Better just to follow the road. . .
LikeLiked by 1 person
So true dear. Perhaps that’s why I’m unable to write.
LikeLike
One insightful poem after another! I’m in awe of your ability to provide rhyme to reveal truth!
Sent from my iPad
>
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Ted. Wish I had your oral storytelling talent.
LikeLike
Wonderful, poignant poem. I love the tire tracks on the beach, too. I love the beach. With or without tracks.
LikeLike
Yes, I think it is the sun. My cetury plant aloe has just put out a million babies. Wish I could send you a dozen. I’ll take a pic if I remember tomorrow..Each flower turns into a new plant and there literally are hundreds of them. Yes. The million was hyperbole.
LikeLike
me too, marilyn. I’ve been missing it.
LikeLike
Thank you for the poem Judy. You surely didn’t take us the wrong way down a one-way street. Your street started out on the beach and became a long wide boulevard of life.
LikeLiked by 1 person