Whitman & Dickinson Imitations

There Was A Daisy Went Forth

There was a child went forth every day;
And the first object he looked upon, that object he became;
And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of
the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years.

The early Spring breezes became a part of this child,

And rain, and fresh smells of dew, and life,

And the meager glow on the window pane

Shimmering and luminous.

The amicable melody of the robin birds,

And the faint smell of the roses,  (10)

White, red, and pink,

And the distant rumble of the far-away planes,

And the jagged edges of the unpaved sidewalks,

And the occasional journey of the migrating butterfly,

Lingering, confused, and wild

Became a part of this child.

The continuous proverbs and advice became a part of this child,

And the concerned, maternal looks of disappointment,

The withered hands,

Folding, making, fixing, cleaning, (20)

And the constant emotion, and seldom jests,

And the aroma of supper, and stress

Became a part of this child.

The everlasting smile became a part of this child,

And the unbreakable wall of serenity and peace,

And the weekly schedules and meetings,

Strenuous, consuming, and long,

And the gentle chuckle of relaxation,

And the undeniable benevolent bond of friendship and honesty

Became a part of this child. (30)

The frantic panic of feelings became a part of this child,

Sudden and cowardly,

And the remote clattering of the brand new shoes on the laminate floors,

And the statuesque walls,

Plain, white, and somber,

And the soothing call of the teacher’s song,

And the vibrant colors and crafts,

Distracting and convivial,

And the mindless and unaltered thoughts of the rest

Became a part of this child.  (40)

The persistent rumors and downfalls became a part of this child,

And the anticipated departure from that 9 year home of learning,

Dead, boring, and lifeless,

And the long, last year of memory making,

And the photographs, and the trips, and the brunches,

And the words of wisdom,

And the fulfillment of goals,

Determined and concise,

And the last walk down the aisle,

The speech, the tears, the regret (50)

Became a part of that child.

The familiar feeling of helplessness became a part of that child,

And the endless hallways and classrooms,

And the boom of the loud speaker,

Distant and unheard,

And the struggle for acceptance,

And the hour long commute,

And the gradual assimilation of life and mind,

And the conversion of lifestyle,

The caring, the needing, and the wanting (60)

Of the best and only the best

Became a part of that child.

The news reports not understood became a part of this child,

And the worried and pale faces,

The smoke, the buildings, the debris,

The shrieking yells of the lost and not so found,

And the unstoppable terror and tears,

Painful and confused,

And the bright sides of life,

The country’s first African American president, (70)

And the step forward in the candidacy for women

Proud and unquestionable

Became a part of this child.

These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now
goes, and will always go forth every day. (75)


There's A Certain Touch of Breeze

The breeze, still, yet so strong, came to visit every day.

Mist, leaves, and thoughts flew alongside that early spring breeze—

Serenity.

The morning sun called its distant counterpart,

Allowing the wind to shine like so,

Releasing that beautiful creativity that’s hard to find.

The day continued to linger, and the wind continued to blow.

The words on my paper spoke in over drive, and endless.

My thoughts came so smooth, and so connected to my mind, body, and soul.

My heart yearned for more. (10)

It wanted a never ending notion of that beautiful breath.

Not a single lover could equalize my heart’s satisfaction.

The perfect day came hand in hand with this unique feeling.

It talked to the windows like it spoke a language,

And talked to my soul like it spoke two.

It seemed as though the breeze carried confessions.

My journal yelling uncontrollably changed page after page.

My mind remained clear and content.

The grass rustled and danced,

Meanwhile the flowers breathed and grew, (20)

Both soaking in the long awaited mist of air.

The sun became dormant, but the breeze remained still.

The song of the birds grew faint, but the rustle of the grass grew stronger.

My mind remained at peace.

As the breeze calmed down,

My heart sank low.

My thoughts shut off like a light switch.

Yet there was no fret.

The daily breeze would return tomorrow hence.

And the creative journey would once again begin. (30)