Today we are considering the alphabet.
The alphabet is a collection of twenty six
Letters, that can, if you so wish, be
Arranged in a list, in order, one after another,
In order, or that can be placed in a specific
Grouping, that allows meaning to be made,
Sentences to be constructed and, in due course,
Ultimately they can become a piece of fiction or
Factual writing, or even, possibly, in some cases, a
Poem. Of course it is also true that letters can be
Combined to make codes or lists, they can be used instead
Of numbers to delineate a list of items.
Warily, the neophyte poet can learn to combine the
Different letters and words into forms that allow a
Xylophone of poetic music, that sits in lines and stanzas,
Rhyming when it fancies, and being blank when
Blankness appeals. Carefully and slowly, treading the
Knife-edge of credibility, the aspiring writer of fiction, the
Novelist who has a head full of characters that are
Jostling and fighting to gain a life in the pages and
Vying for the starring role. The journalist who
Makes his report on the warring factions that argue
Quickly realises that his position is precarious,
Edging ever closer to death and despair,
Holding on with his fingernails to the
Zebra-striped reality, where black and white are
Yelling that colour is outmoded. Letters rule.
© 2ndwitch, 10/04/15
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