An Iota of Identity

Instantaneously spurned forth,

Blossomed into jagged, ragged likeness

Of ferocious virility and stern pride

A hawk or a falcon, sweeping across

Azure skies

Sharp talons glinting in flight

As frightened prey scurry and hide.

Then I melt and deepen into a

Deep lake,

Dark, quiet, and enigmatic

Noiseless and placid

Interwoven fibers of human soul and mystery.

Then again, I was also a cloud

Wisping across the painted

Concave of the sky

Heavens above

Inspired condensed droplets of human

Thought and imagination

Blown away by frigid lips.

My aching hands saw an angel

Serene and magnificent

Drawn to things of beauty

(and what was beauty?)

But everything…

Singing praises and kissing flowering

Flora and fauna

Resurrected from the ground.

But more often than not

I go back and retrace my steps

A bouquet of exotic flowers

Vibrant azaleas and lilies

Splashing painted color among

Living rooms or bare, bleak, beige, blankness

Coyly grinning, cheerily smiling

Fallacies within

The centre of a velvety, purple

Black rose

Alive, not dead

Bearing gothic romances

Of newborn tales and lies.

(A/N: this poet, John Allen Cann, came to our class today, and it was such a treat. It is so refreshing to see someone as impassioned about poetry as myself in person! He made us do this little creative exercise, and this is what spurned from it.