david agenjo

the body is a canvas
which you paint your life upon.
drawn in the pencilled lines of your face
and tinted by the shifting reflections in your eyes
your hands weave the story in the air as you speak
the mind is its own place
its shape and borders
defined only by imagination
a galaxy of unreachable destinations.
surging and receding tides of emotion,
of memory.
You are the creator
the author
of the untold story we keep locked inside
tell me your tale
let it unfold
let the illustrations on your pages tint and reflect
the internal changes
fan the vital flames as they grow brighter and hotter
with each narration
let your burning ignite and blaze streams of color across
the blankness of your canvas

*artwork by david agenjo*


About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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