i, the wordsmith (second draft)

by Jason Alan

While I have taken a break from writing lately (and reading. Sorry, Rami), I have been doing quite a bit of editing. Some time in the next few months, I will be using createspace.com to offer my first paperback. The first digital book I released is poetry so I’m just going in order, but it won’t be just a port of Poetry of a Madman. It will include most of the poems in it, but I didn’t think it had enough pages to warrant a paper book so I have added and will continue to add material (including some art, hopefully) until I am satisfied with the product.

The poem in this post will be the title, and while I do like (mostly) what I have written so far, I will be adding to it and shuffling some words around quite a bit before it’s ready to be in the book, let alone have the book named after it. While I am always open for discussion on all my pieces, this one in particular needs input from you. Let me know if some parts don’t flow well, or if a certain word would work better. I’m creating a product and your help only makes what I create even better for readers.

i, the wordsmith,

forge felonious phrases

in dank diction dungeons;

a half-full kerfuffle

of crestfallen curmudgeons.

i, the wordsmith,

construct metaphors,

maxims and mottos in

valleys of vivacious verbiage.

drinking inspiration

blowing words in the smoke-

the greenest of the foliage.

i, the wordsmith,

scald vernacular to nigh combustion;

to scorch, a robust fever

searing in poetic grandeur.

waxing obscure

in a swaying sea of azure.

i, the wordsmith,

deliver the hammer;

with an arch boldly true,

vainly accurate.

striking song, pounding prose.

bringing them to a close

along with this, that, these and those.

i, the wordsmith,

punctuate sentences with conflict

an emoticonvict

with wet eyes and dry wit.

my mind the drill, the rhyme the bit.

i, the wordsmith,

post paragraphs aplenty

pouring out pages

profusely pushing to apprehend a penny.

i, the wordsmith,

put tongues in cheeks

accents on letters like days on weeks.

thoughts on black and white

alphabetical peeks.

i, the wordsmith,

sculpt blistering expression;

shaped with formidable fury

sparks fly, composing

incandescent symphonies of worry-

pulsating, reverberating

among the corridors of thought:

the imagination of the reader.

As always, thanks for stopping by and thanks in advance for the comments, even if you just roll by to flip me off.