The Poet’s Awakening (with audio)

The Poet’s Awakening


awake my friends.

It is time to begin.

There is a story

she must tell


the Awakening.

It happened inside her,

like a spark


kinetic madness.


got lost in her labyrinth.

So then

Sadness ensued,

and shortly thereafter


took over

(which made

Joy move over.)

It was a tumbling of sorts

during that time,

a humbling of her mind.

But the greatest loss was Hope

–she was nowhere to be found—

which made Death

pretty proud

that at least He

still got to hang around.

It was chaos, my friends.

The kind that feels like a

Dead End.

Not a mirage in the distance,

she knew it was real


she actually thought of a way

to move Them along.

That moment of clarity

must have made her Tiger


from her slumber.

Because before she knew it

she was able to

pounce again.

Her Tiger is her favorite

–please don’t tell the others—

because Tiger

knows how

to have fun.

Her Tiger is wild.

She devours, she loves to run.


is always hungry.

And she

is the passionate one.

She will lick you clean

and spit you back out again.

But for every great character,

there is always a flaw.

Tiger’s greatest mistake

is loving



She sometimes

bites off more

then she can chew.

She lives for the now.

Present is her pet

and she feeds her quite


Which brings me to her Turtle

who came stumbling by–

on Tiger’s rest day

giving the Poet

some relax time.

The changes had already begun

so Turtle’s arrival

was expected.

The Poet was so pleased:

she still existed.

She thought she had

buried her alive

next to her weird thoughts,

but realized

she placed her in a box


“Please don’t ever feed me.”

Her Turtle is her favorite

–please don’t tell the others—

because Turtle loves to think

and think

and think

and write stories.

Her Turtle is gentle and kind.

She loves to contemplate

and remind

the Poet of

times gone by.

She loves Honesty,

the Truth,

and all its dark comedy.

But her Turtle gives treats

to her pet Past

and forgets to feed Present.

And it is fine, my friends,

to do that every

now and again.

But Turtle does it every

waking moment

she can.


Turtle’s greatest flaw



she sometimes





She has been gone for so long

that the Poet

didn’t know how they would

get along.


since she showed up,

her Turtle has proved

her worthiness,

by giving the Poet:


Because of that gift

the Poet’s hallelujah was


which brings me to her Peacock

whose feathers

were then shifted.

Or rustled.

At this point, it doesn’t really matter,

because once her Peacock was tussled with,

the games had begun.

Now she doesn’t know much about her Peacock,

she has only met her a time or two,

but she is the coolest of the cool

and she’ll make you laugh too.

She’s beautiful as well,

but vain as hell.

Because wouldn’t you be just a little

if you were given a power like that?

The unfortunate part,

since there most always is one,

is that her Peacock’s flaw–

is that she doesn’t know how

to turn it all on.

Once is it on,

it has already happened.

The moment is gone and it lasted

no more than a second.

The Peacock is her favorite,

–please don’t tell the others—

because she is the one







Now back to the madness, my friends,

the chaos that seemed to never end.

The Poet–

was desperate for a change

she felt like she was living

the same thing



over again.

So she begged

the Universe

to help her along.

And before she knew it,

her Tiger

came in seductively

gnawing on

something juicy.

The Poet leaned down

and said

“What do you have there?”

And her Tiger replied,

“Happiness. She looked so tasty.”

The Poet shuddered

and barely uttered:

“She’s gone? Forever?”

The Tiger looked at her sadly,






her lips

and replied slowly:

“She was never lost, you know.

You just forgot

how to feast on her bones.”

The Poet started to cry,

thinking Happiness

had disappeared

inside the belly

of her beast.

Her Turtle must have heard the commotion


–in her Turtle-like fashion—

she came bumbling in:

“I know I’m a little late.

Sorry for the long intermission.

I was writing Love Poems

to Sadness and Grief.

I told Death

He couldn’t keep

coming around here

and gave Him some Joy to

play around with.”

Her Turtle adjusted her glasses

and sat ready for more.

As if by magic,

–or perhaps another door opened—

because that is when

her Peacock

swooped in.

Everyone stopped and stared.

She was,


She opened up her wings

–showed off her kaleidoscope of feathers—

and said:

“Don’t I look pretty?

I painted Hope

all over me.”

In that moment of

grandiose lucidity,

the Poet felt something

stir and swirl

around inside her

like a storm of


So, they all sighed.

And realized,

this was the beginning


the Poet’s








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