I have been inspired by many writers on 360 and maybe it is a fitting tribute, that the last poem, that I post on 360 is inspired by a wonder writer, poet, artiste and fellow 360er. My friend Wrath, wrote an amazing blog titled - Dreams. Please read his words and ENJOY! By Wrath
I wanted to be amazing
Somehow I've only managed spectacularly ordinary. I wanted to have scathing wit and a delicate artist's sensibility. I wanted to be handsome and desired. Confidence should feather off my aura like pheromones off of an unwashed Frenchman. My smile should make your tummy flutter a little bit. I wanted to have verve and style. I wanted people to come up to me and say, "What is it that you've got? Can you bottle it?" My stroll through life should have been like Johnny Appleseed planting blessings in abundance. I'm just another Joe. Beer drinking, football watching shmoe just like a million other men. I'm "a guy." A dude. Nothing special about me. I wanted to be though. I wanted to be amazing. Can't God smack me upside the head and make me an apostle? Where are my followers? Why are my long conversations with Twain, Shaw and the Bard so one-sided? Obviously, I have nothing to say. How can Sondheim make me belt, McCaffery make me cry and Yeats lift me into the clouds and all I wanted to do was the same to you. And you and you and you. Only a fool or a romantic rewards effort. I wanted to succeed. To win. Effortlessly. I wanted to charm the pants off you. I wanted a world of soft lavenders and warm ambers; I wanted to hear the music in a sunset. I wanted to be delightful. I wanted you to smile when you thought of me; I wanted that quick smile when I entered the room. I'm not even Norm from Cheers, no one shouts my name; not even in the bedroom. I should've been named Jack or Bub or Charlie. Average Joe. Why can't I be Cool Joe or Killer Joe, Rambling Jack or Big John. I wanted my tombstone to say, "he was a good man." I fear I'll just be ashes and forgotten. Another among many. A statistic not worth looking up. A freaking number. Can't I be gold or C Sharp or a tour jete? I wanted to be special. I wanted to make you glow; I wanted to make you shine. I wanted a ring etched with Charisma +10, fairies at the corner of my eye, magic in my eyelashes and a rainbow connection. I wanted to be calligraphy. I wanted to be cinnamon. I wanted to be the paradigm. I wanted to climb into your head and rub you the right way. I wanted to be special. I wanted to be a fond memory.
My tribute to Wrath - "A Love Song to a Poet":
I know that you wanted to be amazing...
but would you believe if I told you
you are more than amazing
would you believe that your are the wisp of wind
that stops our breath
you are the silent jungle thrum
that beats beneath the breast
you are all this and more
would you believe me if I said you were the words
that shaped and defines us
across this parchment of inked emotions
you are the metaphor that clarifies
the alliteration that repeats over and over
our sonnet that sonorantly sings
the ode that remembers and pays tribute
love, you have always been amazing and more
