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Paper Dreams

by Barbara Dalton 2 months ago in inspirational

Metamorphosis in words

I bought this Moleskine with nothing in mind

It was rather beautiful, and quite the find.

Now what should I write in it? I did not know

If I was gifted to write, the words should flow.

Opened the pages of my precious Moleskine I did

Had never had something so special as a kid.

It felt luxurious, each page well crafted

Empty pages waiting for words to be drafted.

My thoughts came rushing like some kind of flood

Surely, I could write? It must be in my blood!

A competition on creative writing?

I found this intriguing, and rather enticing.

Unexpectedly coming into money, and a little black book

Are the requirements for judges to even look

At a submission for this Vocal contest.

Could I do it? I’ll try to give it my best.

I am sure there will be thousands of entries posted

They’ll look at mine and I’ll be ghosted.

But you have to be in to win they say

Time is of the essence, like making hay.

Let’s give it a go – not for the dollars, but pride

At least in the end, I could say I tried.

I know there is more talented people out there

I’m a realist at heart, let’s be clear.

It won’t be a novel, but rather a rhyme

Perhaps that is considered more of a crime?

Contemporary it’s not, like Amanda Gormans'

Mine is more likely to be a ‘flash in the pan’.

Actually it’s quite hard to write a poem that works

To maintain attention and entice a smirk.

The easy way out? – I don’t think so

I’ll let you decide; here we go!

There once was a young man who lived on the street

Begged, and stole, no cellphone to tweet.

His mom was broken, his dad had died

He had long lost any sense of pride.

He dreamed of comfort, peace and calm

Despite being dirty and with the look to harm.

Little schooling, no siblings, his existence in despair

His experiences in life had been quite unfair.

He slept each night under the stars

Surrounded by the roar of cars

Under a highway, in a makeshift nest.

No four walls - just the clothes he was dressed.

This was his world. No guidance, no hope.

He had somehow learned to live and cope

He begged for food and dodged the cops

Getting some tidbits from traffic stops.

A looney here, a bagel there

Those small donations were something to cheer

They filled his stomach even if for just a bit,

But into society he did not fit.

One day, at an intersection cleaning car screens,

A Porsche was stopped, barely unclean.

He walked right past, but the driver yelled out

“Come here young man! I do not know the first about

Being on the street and doing without

But here is some cash, I have no doubt

You could use it to buy some food,

Or a nice hot coffee freshly brewed.”

The lady handed him a twenty-dollar bill

He thanked her for her generous goodwill.

Was this happening, was she that rich?

To spare that much to a man in the ditch?

Money, he wasn’t used to having as much

Had never experienced such a kind touch.

He decided to use half of the money to eat

Bought a burger which tasted ever so sweet.

The lotto he’d heard about, a ticket was needed

So, to the Depanneur he quickly speeded

Fridays’ he knew was the lottery night

With an entry, he could win and end his plight.

Ten dollars he spent to buy the ticket

The clerk looked at him strangely from behind her wicket.

Could he be a winner? There’s always a chance,

The following day he took a glance…

He compared the numbers, couldn’t believe his eyes

He had actually won a twenty-grand prize!

He checked again, it really was true

His excitement he could barely subdue.

He gathered his thoughts and hit the street

No longer would he be incomplete

To the bank he went, with much haste

Not one single cent did he want to waste.

He took care of his mum, got her some much-needed help

Talked to those cops who quite frankly just yelped

That for once the lottery went to someone in need

And not to a person with wealth or greed.

That there was finally some justice for this man on the street

Alone, struggling, down and out, beat.

Many face such challenges, their lives a mess

With little means to become a success.

It wasn’t easy going from poor to ‘rich’-

It certainly didn’t go without a hitch.

But he did manage to turn his life around

With support from caring people he found.

Sometime later, he went to a store

One that he had never dared enter before

He perused the shelves, something special he wanted

To remember how he became undaunted.

And there he found

Something beautifully bound

He could not overlook

This little black book.

With pen in hand, he started to write

About how his life had changed over-night

Grateful for the lady and her twenty dollar note

And the chance to finally be afloat.

And so there ends my entry, for all to see

Words on paper that resonated with me.

Let’s be honest, I know it’s far-fetched

(Sadly, not the part about a man being wretched.)

The beauty of journals whether large or small

Blank lines are waiting for a pen to sprawl

Whether written in haste, in anger or jest

Or, to try and win a Moleskine contest!

Provoking emotions and dialogue for years to come

Even if the text may be absurd to some.

Words that will never disappear or grow old

A story imprinted as it was told.

Twenty K would be nice – I won’t disagree

Be as smart as this man, or have a spending spree?

My little black book and my fictional story

Will it bring me fortune, fame and a little glory?

Barbara Dalton
Barbara Dalton
Read next: Poem: New Life
Barbara Dalton

I am a New-Zealand born Canadian exploring my lifelong passion for the English language and how incredibly powerful words can be, whether written or spoken. Glad to be part of a community that supports creativity and new artists.

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